


Utopia

by TheDuckofIndeed



Category: Ratchet & Clank
Genre: Adventure, Heroes and villains unite, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Plot Twists, Squishy Nefarious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 159,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25051663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDuckofIndeed/pseuds/TheDuckofIndeed
Summary: Fueled by the desire to do what's right or the thirst for revenge, heroes and villains are forced to work together again to fight a new evil with a goal more sinister than any before them.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Looks Like the Doctor's Not In

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing story I've been working on for the last several years on fanfiction.net, and I'd like to slowly start transferring it here, as well. So until I'm all caught up here, way more chapters can be found on the other site. I hope you enjoy!

There were few things quite as unsettling as docking at a dead space station.

Or finding a spider in your shirt when you’re in the middle of putting it on. That’s pretty bad, too.

Ratchet and Clank had just caught wind of a strange occurrence over in a sector of the Solana Galaxy so distant, no one had even bothered to name it, when a dead surveillance satellite was found drifting off course, and when the authorities traced its programmed route as they tried to locate just where it had been rendered in such a state, what did they find but an unidentified space station smack dab in the middle of nowhere, rumored to be the newest base of none other than the duo’s greatest nemesis, the robotic supervillain Dr. Nefarious….

Well, rumored was a bit of an understatement, considering it was designed to be the spitting image of the sinister scientist, green, glass dome and all, in much the same manner as his previous space station back when he was bent on rewriting history for his own twisted ends. While it was a good deal smaller (the doctor must be rather strapped for bolts these days), there was no doubt as to the station’s owner. Unless he had a rather big fan, but considering the scientist’s penchant for betraying anyone he had ever sided with, that was rather unlikely. And for the first time in all their many years of infiltrating enemy territory, they were met with a rather quiet reception.

Well, none actually.

In fact, the Lombax and his small robot companion entered the space station with no more commotion than a wave and a hello from one of the Galactic Rangers that had been sent to investigate the disturbance, along with an admittance that if anything out of the ordinary occurred here, they’d leave it up to the two of them to deal with the situation. And while it wasn’t an entirely unexpected statement, it was just a bit disturbing that it was these very robots the residents of the Solana Galaxy relied on to fight wars in their stead. With that attitude, it was no wonder the duo was so blasted busy all the time.

As they strode down the maze of hallways that greeted them beyond the hangar doors, they found the place to be black as space, the only working lights to be those the Rangers had brought along, and while these proved to be more or less sufficient, it didn’t prevent the robots from quivering at the slightest movement of their own shadows in the twilight, and Ratchet rolled his eyes from inside the space suit he continued to wear even inside, as Aphelion had detected a depleting supply of oxygen now that the station’s life support systems were as defunct as the lights (the Lombax was pretty certain it had never occurred to Nefarious that a space station comprised entirely of robots had little need of life support).

As the two of them strode by yet another Galactic Ranger they had caught who was busy doing next to nothing, save for loitering and looking over his shoulder for whatever he suspected might sneak up on him from out of the gloom, it became more than apparent that the station had fallen victim to something much worse than a mere power outage as they passed countless robots lying motionless on the ground. It was clear they were Nefarious’ troopers, based on the green domes that comprised the upper half of their frames, and it was equally as clear that they, just like everything else, were completely and utterly dead.

“I must admit, it’s pretty spooky in here.” Ratchet stopped to nudge at the nearest robot with the end of one boot. “I wonder what happened.” He crouched down to tap at the glass of its head with a gloved finger, this act also failing to return any life to its circuits. Not that he would want to. Nefarious had quite the habit of giving his troops rotating saws for arms, along with any other cruel instruments that were well-suited to slicing and dicing “squishies”. As if trying to open a pickle jar wasn’t difficult enough…

“Well, based on the lack of any _physical damage_ , I would have to conclude that someone set off an EMP device in the vicinity,” Clank said with a hand to his metal chin. “These poor robots. They did not stand a chance.”

The Lombax stood and attempted to scratch the back of his head before he remembered he was still wearing a helmet. “An EMP? Could it—”

“Yes, an electromagnetic—”

“I _know_ what an EMP is. But, could it really do this to an entire space station?” Ratchet gestured about at the strangely serene massacre as he turned to continue his patrol down the hallway, though he highly doubted he would find anything besides what they had already seen.

His robotic companion made to follow. “Why, yes, quite easily, actually. You see…”

“It’s horrible! I can’t stand another second in this place! I think I’m gonna throw up!”

They jumped out of the way as a Galactic Ranger came screaming around the corner in front of them and ran by with his hands clutched to his head, and he continued to shriek in terror long after he was lost to sight in the blackness where the lights didn’t reach, which only served to give him a whole new thing to scream over.

“What’s _his_ problem?” Ratchet asked as he jabbed his thumb in the direction the frightened robot had gone.

“I know they may look like mere pieces of metal to you, Ratchet, but imagine if these hallways were littered with the bodies of _organic_ life forms.”

“Yeah, I guess I see the point. Though, no offense, but I don’t really _care_ what happened to a bunch of Nefarious’ lackeys. I just want to know who did this and where _Nefarious_ is.” The Lombax peered off into one dark hallway none of the Rangers had yet to venture down. And likely never would, though due to fear or sheer laziness, it mattered little. “Come on, Clank, let’s get to the bottom of this. We won’t find anything if we stick around _these_ numbskulls.”

It wasn’t long before the duo began to venture into uncharted territory using a cloud of glowing nanorobots, courtesy of Big Al, to light the way, but everywhere they went through the cold, dead hallways of the silent space station, they found nothing but robots reduced to scrap metal, and Ratchet fiddled with the controls of various consoles they passed along the way, only to find they had fared no better.

“They’re all completely fried,” Ratchet said before he stopped in front of an elevator and pressed the button nearby with rather low expectations of what he thought might happen. And he was not disappointed.

“Darn it! How are we going to find anything in this place if we’re stuck on one level?”

“Ratchet,” Clank began from his place as Ratchet’s backpack, a position he so often took up when they were in the middle of exploration or any other situations with the potential for peril. Even if today didn’t seem to be one of them. “I really do not think it would be safe to attempt any form of ascent using the elevator at a time like this, even if it _was_ still functioning. I suggest we take the stairs.”

“There _are_ no stairs! Look, I have an idea.” The Lombax began to pry at the elevator doors with all his might, but when this produced no results, he took out his blaster. “There’s nothing a little firepower can’t fix.” After a few well-aimed shots, he tried the doors again, this time with more success when he was able to force his fingers in the gap his pistol had made. Once he had succeeded in pushing the doors apart just a bit further, he took up his trusty wrench, and the doors came open enough that he was able to squeeze through, but no sooner had he done so that he yelped at the abyss that opened up at his feet.

“Ratchet! What’s going on?”

“Nothing! Everything’s perfectly— I don’t see any sign of the elevator, though….”

The Lombax’s gaze jerked upward when he heard a screech from above, and he jumped back just in time as the elevator came screaming past with the sound of metal scraping on metal, and he stepped forward again to stare wide-eyed down at the light given off an increasing distance below by a corona of sparks.

“Well, _that_ was close.”

“This would _not_ have happened if we had taken the stairs.”

Ratchet rolled his eyes before he began to tackle the elevator shaft with the help of his Gravity Boots, each step producing a metallic clang that rang out before and below him, and while he had been defying gravity in such a manner for years, walking vertically up a deep and dimly lit elevator shaft did have a way of making one rather queasy, and he was just grateful when he was given the chance to return to more horizontal footing upon his arrival at the highest level the elevator shaft would take him.

His relief was short-lived, however, as the fur on the back of his neck began to prick up at how completely silent it was without even the chatter of the Galactic Rangers to mask the deathly lull, and as he started forward, he found himself flinching at the sound of his own footsteps as they echoed off ahead of him down a hallway that seemed in the darkness like it could stretch on without end, and he was tempted to take out his blaster (or the RYNO, for that matter), even when, just like the hallways prior, there was no sign of movement of any kind.

“You don’t think Nefarious accidentally did this to himself, do you, Clank?” Ratchet said as he picked his way among the scattered bodies of robots that littered the floor.

“I do not think so. Even _he_ would not have been so careless.”

“Then, who do you think did it? Another enemy of his, perhaps?”

They wandered about for what felt like a good hour, and just when Ratchet was considering giving up and hightailing it out of here, he came upon a door that looked particularly promising, based on the emblem revealed upon its surface as the cloud of nanorobots circled slowly about him, and he worked on prying it open in the same manner as with the elevator, only to obliterate it with the Negotiator when his patience wore thin.

“Was that really necessary?” the robot asked.

“You bet it was.”

The Lombax strode through the now smoldering doorway, his gun still smoking and held at the ready, and he stopped within a room that was not at all what he was expecting. This was Nefarious’ office, sure enough, based on the furniture (and did the supervillain really have…an action figure of himself displayed on his desk?), but everything was…completely fine.

In fact, there appeared to be no sign of a struggle whatsoever. No toppled furniture. No sign of missed gunshots. Nothing. It was as if the scientist had simply left and intended to return later, if it wasn’t for the obvious fact that something _had_ happened here, or else the space station wouldn’t be without power and every single trooper littering the hallways indisposed. And finding the room without one object out of place was quite possibly the most chilling thing of all.

It was bad enough that someone had so easily managed to sneak this far into what should have been one of the most heavily guarded places in the galaxy, but for them to have done so without any retaliation from the supervillain… Dr. Nefarious may have been a lunatic, but he was not so easily tricked, and he never went down easily. And the Lombax would know. But, what did he expect from someone who could shoot lasers from their hands?

Clank dropped to the floor to make a closer inspection of the large room, in case there was something he was missing, while the Lombax made a slow sweep of his own to inspect the expansive aquarium built into the back wall and several vicious-looking robotic fish that were now lying motionless on the bottom.

“Find anything—” he began as he moved down the wall with a hand running over the glass, but his words and his stride were cut short when his gaze caught something on the floor.

Blood.

“What is it, Ratchet?” Clank asked as he joined him, but his question was answered when he, too, looked down at what had caught his companion’s attention. “I see. It would appear…an organic is responsible for this.”

“Yeah, but that still doesn’t tell us who. Did you find anything else, Clank?”

The little robot shook his head. “No. All I can conclude from this is that either Dr. Nefarious succumbed to the same fate as all the other robots under his command or he is not here to begin with.”

“You’re right.” Ratchet’s eyes fell to the drops of crimson that speckled the floor one, final time. “Let’s get out of here.”

The two returned at once to Aphelion, passing countless Galactic Rangers on their way back that had still yet to muster up the courage to venture beyond the first few dozen yards beyond the hangar, and they took off in the direction of Kerwan, both remaining silent as they pondered over what they had found, or what was more unsettling, the fact that they _hadn’t_ found anything, the existence of the one who had turned the space station into a drifting tomb an impossible enigma when they had left behind no sign they had ever been.

They travelled for an hour or a few through the endless void that was space, with nothing but the countless speckle of stars and the murky depths of nebulae for company. It was a place that felt so empty, and yet which contained so much, it was impossible to fathom. This far out in the middle of nowhere, not even a ship passed by, and there were times, more than Ratchet cared to count, that he worried the universe as he knew it had ended during their time out in all this nothing, and no matter how much they wandered, they would never again find another soul. He shivered. Better not think about it.

The Lombax began to fidget as the silence started to remind him a bit too much of the place they had just left behind, and he reached for the radio, only to withdraw his hand at the crackling of static, and while at this instant he took back his wish for noise, it was a wish that came too late when a familiar voice came in over the radio.

“How’s it goin’, cadets?” said the voice of none other than Captain Copernicus Qwark himself. “Did you find anything interesting in my…” His voice lowered to a tone he surely found far more dramatic. “My nemesis’s evil lair? I mean, my…neme-nemesiseses…my…”

“No, we didn’t, Qwark,” Ratchet said, and he attempted to turn the radio off, but was prevented from doing so by a glare from Clank.

“It appears an EMP was used to disable all the electronic devices in Dr. Nefarious’ space station,” the robot said.

“A _what_?”

“An EMP. You see, it is an electromagnetic pulse used to interfere with and disable—”

“Ratchet, he’s starting the nerd-talk again….”

The Lombax rolled his eyes. “What Clank’s trying to say is Nefarious’ space station is toast. And no, we didn’t find any sign of your ‘evil nemesis’. Something happened there, sure enough, but we don’t know anymore now than we did before we got there.” _Less_ , actually.

“Phew, that’s good to hear,” the superhero said. “I have this appointment for a facial on- Ahem, what I meant to say was, I’m just glad to hear that the two of you are safe—”

“Sure you are.”

“—and I can always just track that villain down another time and give him a taste of my two good friends here, the Long Arm of the Law and Hey, Good Lookin’.”

Ratchet frowned. “And _who_ exactly are they?”

“My fists, who else? Once my appointment’s over, of course. But, the point is…I’m just glad—”

“Lombax distress signal detected.”

“—no one got hurt. I’ve always believed—”

“Hold on a second, Qwark. Aphelion’s found something—”

“—that violence wasn’t _really_ the answer. I mean, okay, yeah, killing people _is_ a pretty good way to—”

“Qwark, I gotta go.” Ratchet turned off the radio. “Aphelion, what is it?”

“Lombax distress signal detected. Point of origin is on an unknown planet .5 parsecs away.”

“ _Lombax_? Did she…Clank, did she say—”

“Yes, that _is_ what she said, but that does not mean—”

“Well, what’s it _say_ exactly, Aphelion? There _has_ to be more to it than that.”

“The message is in Lombax and encrypted with a 2048-bit LKI encryption key and can only be deciphered by a device of Lombax origin.”

Ratchet huffed. “Well, that’s _perfect_. Decipher it, then!”

“The message reads as—” Aphelion began, but her voice became lost in a jumble of static.

“There appears to be some kind of interfe—” Clank said.

“I know! Clank, do something!”

“And what do you suggest I do? It would be most effective to simply try again once we are out of range of whatever is causing the disturbance.”

“Yes, but then we might end up out of range of the distress signal! _You’re_ smart! Figure it out!” The Lombax struck the ship’s console with his fist, which only succeeded in jumbling the message further.

“You remember what Captain Qwark said. Violence is not the answer.” The robot giggled that distinctive laugh he so commonly practiced, but he received only a snarl in response.

“Clank!”

“My apologies.” Clank turned a knob on the console this way and that, Aphelion’s words coming through in varying levels of clarity. “There, that seems to be better. On second thought—”

“—a very special day t’day-hic-‘cuz t’day’s our very own Cap’n Slag’s birfday! Why-hic-Cap’n, ya ‘ardly look a day-hic-o’er twen'y-t’ree!”

“Aw, shucks, Pete!”

“Excuse me. Let me try something else,” Clank said, and he turned another knob, but only succeeded in raising the volume.

“—‘e’s a pretty neat fella, fer ‘e’s a pretty neat fella, fer ‘e’s a-hic—”

“Pete, what I saying about singin’! There’ll be no singin’ t’day! D’ya hear me! Be quiet!”

A gasp was heard through the radio, and Ratchet’s hands tightened their grip on the yoke.

“But, Cap’n, pirates _always_ sing catchy ditties!”

“I know, but I jus’ don’t feel like it t’day, Pete!”

“Say it-hic-ain’t so, Cap’n! Say it—”

“It’s so, Pete! It’s so!”

Further fidgeting with the controls produced little more than static again, only to clear up just in time to catch the sound of sobbing.

“Ah, come now, Pete. Don’t start that. Y’know what ‘appens when ya cry. You start cryin’, then I start tearin’ up, an’ then b’fore ya know it, we’ll all be blubberin’ like sissy, little landlubbers, and who’s gonna take a buncha weepy pirates seriously?”

“I dunno-hic-Cap’n. I jus’ don’ know.”

“Clank, please, make it stop!”

This time, the robot’s efforts met with more success, and Aphelion’s voice returned to them mid-sentence. “—send help imm—”

“It seems we must have cleared the—” Clank began, only to be hushed by his companion.

“Wait a minute,” Ratchet said. “Start from the beginning.”

“The message reads as follows: ‘Help. I am stranded and definitely not armed. Please send help immediately. I am in mortal peril. Especially since I’m not armed.’ End message.”

The Lombax frowned. “Huh, well, that was a little…”

“Suspicious, yes. Ratchet, I really must insist we exercise caution in this matter. I do not have a good feeling about this.”

“Yeah, but…it’s a Lombax, Clank. Who else could’ve sent it?”

“Actually…”

“I know the message was a little sketchy, but if there’s even a remote possibility another Lombax is out there, I have to find them.” Ratchet’s face cracked in a sly grin as he nudged the little robot with one elbow. “But, hey, look on the bright side. They _said_ they weren’t armed.”

Clank frowned. “You _do_ realize that whenever _I_ am this trusting, it often does not end well and results in you becoming cross with me.”

“Yeah, I know. Let’s get going, Clank.” With that, Ratchet activated the ship’s boosters and sped off for the source of the mysterious signal.

“By the way, we are low on fuel, and using the boosters will surely cause us to run out twice as quickly.”

“Just stop talking, Clank.”


	2. A Bad Case of Gas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New character incoming!

The signal grew stronger with each passing hour as they sped ever deeper into regions of space never before traveled by the pair, the blackness broken only by a brilliant cloud of blue gas an untold distance away to their left that looked so peaceful and calm, and yet which Ratchet knew was, in actuality, the raging sea of a gaseous nebula, the explosive birthplace of stars whose size could scarcely be fathomed, demonstrating so perfectly the dual nature of space, the peace and the silence that belied its true nature, of a place as cold as absolute zero and so inhospitable, no organic could survive for more than a fraction of a second without the proper protection (except for Captain Qwark, according to…Captain Qwark, whose claim to have survived out in space for six days he still doggedly defended, as was his belief that his abs really were made of steel).

It was this apparent, but dreadfully misleading, emptiness of space that allowed Ratchet to direct Aphelion onward with a velocity that would (and had) gotten him traffic tickets if practiced in Metropolis (and the officer didn’t seem to understand that the line surely gathering for the release of the VG 11000 game system wasn’t getting any shorter the more he attempted to explain to the young Lombax that just because he had saved the lives of trillions, he still had to obey the laws of the hover-lanes).

And just as Clank had insisted he come to a _full_ stop at any stop sign that day, with an apparent lack of comprehension for what the words “shut up” or “I’m really not interested in the statistics of traffic accidents on Kerwan right now” meant, so, too, did the diminutive robot display a growing conviction that they slow down and think the matter of their impromptu rescue over. Of course, Ratchet being Ratchet, “slowing down” or “thinking” were the farthest things from his mind at the moment when there was potentially a Lombax in danger out there on some uncharted planet. When you had found and lost your own kind as many times as he had, you had a right to be capricious every once in a while.

Believe it or not, essentially being the last of one’s kind sort of did that to a person.

And so, despite his friend’s frequent warnings, he never once hesitated, and he never once slowed down. Not until their fuel ran out, of course.

Ratchet’s jaw tightened as Aphelion began to slow, and he hoped and pleaded that Clank would somehow not notice that the stars were no longer speeding by the windscreen in streaks of white, but of course, nothing passed the little robot’s notice, who began to look around in alarm before his gaze settled on his friend, a frown apparent on his metal face.

“Ratchet, what have I been telling you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know!” A quick peek at the fuel gauge told the Lombax just how accurate his friend’s words had been, while a warning from Aphelion only confirmed more of the same.

“What are we—”

“I got it under control. Just let me handle this. We still have enough fuel to go just a little further.”

And indeed they did, allowing Ratchet to pilot the ship forward at a far slower speed than before, though his eyes began to fixate on the fuel gauge more and more often as the minutes ticked by, until those minutes turned into one of the most excruciating half hours of his life, each stutter in the ship’s movement causing him to tense as he awaited what was surely coming. And then, it happened, and Aphelion’s boosters shuttered once more before giving out completely, and they continued to drift forward thanks to nothing more than their earlier velocity.

Ratchet pushed and pulled the yoke this way and that with the precision of a surgeon, as if _it_ was actually at fault for the engine’s failure, and Clank merely watched intently with half-hidden optics, as if the observation of his friend’s efforts would help them to succeed. Once a few more hopeful glances at Aphelion’s dashboard confirmed that the fuel level had not miraculously replenished itself, the Lombax released a held breath and leaned back in defeat as his hands dropped to his lap. “Well, Clank.”

His robotic companion blinked at him. “Yes, Ratchet?”

“You were right.”

Clank reclined back in his own seat and laced his fingers together. “I would not have said what I did had I not been.”

Ratchet scanned the horizon for any sign of rescue, another ship perhaps, or better yet, a nearby planet, but all he could find was that distant, blue nebula, the sight leaving him in awe just as much as it chilled him to the bone. “You know, I think that’s the closest to gloating you’ve ever come.”

“I suppose it is. I think some of your confidence is starting to rub off on me.”

“Yeah,” Ratchet wrapped his arms tight about himself and shivered as his large ears began to droop. “‘Confidence’ is a nice word for it.”

The robot chuckled, while the Lombax attempted some of the same, though it contained little humor and provided only an ounce more of comfort. (Dr. Nefarious and Lawrence were actually quite fortunate, really, that they were only stuck drifting about the universe on an asteroid for a few years. And while _Clank_ could certainly survive such a fate, Ratchet didn’t think he’d have the same luck.) First rule of intergalactic space travel, pay attention to fuel. And don’t teleport yourself to an asteroid with no way of getting back. Though, that second one was a no-brainer.

“I suppose you do not want to listen to the radio after what happened last time.”

“Right again.”

Ratchet didn’t know how long they floated out there, with time inching by even slower than they were and even the blue nebula becoming lost to sight what felt like hours ago, but they managed to keep themselves occupied by pointing out constellations and retelling stories of earlier days, after Clank’s idea of calculating square roots in sequence met with little enthusiasm, despite the little robot’s best efforts to convince him of the merits of such an endeavor. It wasn’t long after they recalled, with no shortage of horror, the time they had to rescue Captain Qwark from a rogue crotchitizer that the radio crackled to life, and the Lombax started from his seat at the addition of a third voice in the cramped cockpit.

“Looks like you’ve run into a bit of trouble, outsider,” said a voice so garbled, he would have thought it was a robot with a bad voice modulator if he hadn’t heard something like it before.

Ratchet lunged for the radio, his relief doing a fine job of making him forget that such proximity wasn’t necessary. “Yes, we…we sort of…ran out of fuel. Think you can help?”

“Sure thing,” the Vullard said. “We just so happen to run a fueling depot in your vicinity. We’ll pull you in with our ship tether.”

“Hey, thanks a lot!”

“No problem, outsider.”

With that, the radio clicked off, and Clank looked over at his friend with raised eyebrows. Had he possessed any, of course. “Well, that was convenient.”

The Lombax folded his arms behind his head and leaned back as the ship was overtaken by a blue glow, and he felt Aphelion changing direction. “You see, Clank, I always tell you things will turn out okay in the end.”

“Yes, but I do not recall you saying that _this_ time.”

Ratchet grinned. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly feeling that way a few minutes ago.”

Their smooth descent was broken as Aphelion was set down less than gently upon a small asteroid they could have too easily passed had the Vullard not spotted them when he did, and the two jumped out of the ship to meet their rescuer as he shuffled towards them, and it was a wonder he could move at all with the weight of the scrap metal he had strapped to his back, so much so that he was hunched nearly to the ground.

“In addition to the price for fueling your ship,” the Vullard said, “there will also be a small fee for having to tow you in. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Hey, but we were in trouble out there!” Ratchet said.

“Sorry, outsider,” the Vullard said with a nonchalant wave of one hand. “We have to make a living somehow. We rarely ever get customers this far out.” With clearly no intention of changing his mind, he continued past them on his way to their ship and waved behind him for his comrade to bring over a long hose.

“Well, I guess we don’t have much choice,” the Lombax said with a sigh as he headed for the small structure a short distance away.

“I suppose they _did_ save our lives.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think they were gonna charge us for it!”

“I am just grateful they found us when they did. I have heard there are a good number of black holes in this sector.”

“Clank, don’t tell me stuff like that.”

“My apologies.”

They watched Aphelion from the discomfort of two metal stools, which were a bit on the short side to accommodate the Vullards’ differing proportions, and Ratchet rested his cheek on his fist as he struck the counter behind him with the heel of his foot.

“You think we’ll find anything, Clank? When we reach the source of that distress signal, I mean.”

The robot shrugged. “I suppose we will not know until we get there. But, Ratchet,” he turned to face his friend more fully as he added, “I do hope it _is_ a Lombax.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

Ratchet turned to studying the ground and kicking his feet against the counter harder than ever, while Clank remained with his arms folded in his lap with a patience no organic could ever muster, until the Lombax’s gaze was drawn upward by a shadow that stopped within his field of vision.

“Yeah, is our ship—”

His eyes widened, however, when it was not a Vullard that his gaze landed upon, but an alien of an entirely different species, with pale green, speckled skin and a mane of dark red hair like a Florana dandelion, which hid downward pointing ears that peeked out on either side of her face. But, what caught Ratchet’s attention most of all was the curious assortment of bits and pieces hanging from her layered clothing. She had such a collection of scraps, in fact, one would think she was trying very hard to turn into a Vullard.

She studied him as if he was a very baffling specimen indeed, and the various objects arranged about her clinked and jingled as she shifted her stance. “Where are you going?”

Ratchet’s eyes swiveled this way and that before he jabbed a thumb to his chest, and she nodded. He glanced over at Clank, whose perplexed frown was enough evidence that she was not just a figment of his imagination.

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know. Where are _you_ going?”

“Nowhere.”

“All right.” He attempted to look away, but his attention was drawn back to her when she failed to cease her unsettling staring. “Can I help you?”

She pressed her lips in a frown. “With what?”

“Nothing, I guess.” Ratchet turned in his seat to put his back to her in the hopes that a more obvious approach would make it clear he wasn’t in the mood to be pestered. The point did not seem to be taken, however, when he heard her speak up again behind him.

“No, seriously. Where are you going?”

Ratchet spun back around, gritting his teeth to find her looking at _him_ in annoyance. “And _how_ is this your business?”

“I’m just asking. The only people who usually stop by here are smugglers looking to elude the authorizes or dopes who are hopelessly lost.” She strode forward with crossed arms and leaned in to better look him in the eyes. “Which one are you?”

“Neither!” When flailing his arms in gestures of rage failed to end her scrutiny, he rose to his feet and slid along the wall to put a better distance between the two of them. “And frankly, it’s none of your business!”

She squinted one eye and scratched her chin in dire seriousness. “You _do_ look pretty shady….”

“As a matter of fact…” Clank spoke up behind her as he followed his friend’s lead and rose to his feet, as well, and her gaze shot this way and that, her wild mane of hair floating about her in an almost gravity-free manner as she searched for the source of the voice until the little robot mimicked clearing his throat. “Down here, if you please.”

Ratchet huffed. “Clank, it’s really—”

“We are actually seeking the source of a mysterious distress signal. Would you happen to know anything about it? If you have a proper transceiver, surely you have caught some trace of the signal, as well.”

The woman stared down at the tiny robot, who continued to gaze up at her expectantly, before she turned to the Lombax. “You’re following a distress signal?”

“Don’t look at _me_. _He’s_ the one who’s apparently in a talkative mood right now.”

Returning her gaze to the small robot, she said, “Well, yeah, actually, I caught the signal, as well. But, I couldn’t read it.” She directed an inquisitive eyebrow back at the Lombax. “Could _you_?”

“Yeah, and that’s where we’re heading just as soon as our ship’s refueled,” Ratchet said. “And while we’re on the subject of butting into things that aren’t any of our business, why don’t you tell me what _you’re_ doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere? According to you, only criminals and idiots come here. So which one are _you_?”

She grinned to reveal crooked teeth. “I guess I fall in the ‘neither’ category myself, no matter how shady I might seem. I actually live here.”

Ratchet arched a furry eyebrow. “You…live here? On this tiny asteroid?”

“Yeah. And so do the Vullards. Well, to be honest, I only live here sometimes. I needed some scraps, you see.” She cupped a hand around her mouth and lowered her voice as if divulging some hidden secret. “Don’t let V’rhil know.”

Ratchet turned away with a roll of his eyes and began to march back in the direction of the ship. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Cool.”

“Come on, Clank,” he called over his shoulder, but he didn’t get very far before the woman zipped ahead of him with an unnatural speed to plant herself back in his path.

“Hey, I have an idea!”

“That’s nice. But, we—”

“Why don’t I go with you? I’ve never gone on a rescue mission before, and then I can help you save your damsel, or guy, in distress. And besides, I’ve been hearing this signal on my radio for some time now, and I just _have_ to find out where it’s coming from! _And_ if you take me with you in _your_ ship, we can…” She scratched one of her pointed, drooping ears as she tilted her head in contemplation. “We can, I think it’s called, ‘carpool’. And that sounds fun because I like pools. Not really, though. It just…it sounds fun because of the word ‘pool’, even though I know it doesn’t really…um…”

Ratchet remained silent throughout her entire, mad spiel, considering it was impossible to get a word in edgewise, and once her tirade began to dwindle down, her earlier grin started to fade in response to the unimpressed stare that hadn’t once wavered upon his feline features.

“I-we…we can’t just…take you along with us,” Ratchet began once he was finally allowed to respond, forcing a calmness into his voice that he could only manage due to having been given more than enough time to prepare for it. “I mean, we don’t even know who sent the signal or what kind of trouble they’re in, so I wouldn’t feel right putting a…” he eyed her unorthodox style of dress, “you in any danger. All right? Are we clear?”

She blinked at him. “But…we can carpool.”

“I understand that. And the answer’s still no.”

An uneasiness settled in Ratchet’s stomach as her weakening smile dissolved completely, and she remained silent as she digested yet another denial to her request. Before he could react, but not before he could cry out in surprise, she lunged at him, producing a knife from some hidden pocket of her clothing as she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close with a frightening strength for someone of her frame.

“You think I can’t take care of myself just because I’m a girl? Is that it? Huh?” she said as she shook the knife she held, blade up, beneath his chin.

Ratchet shook his head, causing his large ears to flop from side to side as Clank looked all about in search of some way to rescue his friend.

“No,” the Lombax said. “No, I-I didn’t say _anything_ like that. It’s just that—”

“Put that away, outsider. We get few enough customers as it is without you threatening them.”

Ratchet breathed a sigh of relief, though his body remained tense even after she released him to turn to the approaching Vullards.

“I’m sorry, V’arak.” Her head swiveled back to her recent victim, who had already retreated from her to put the Vullards between the two of them, and his hand drifted to his blaster even after the knife disappeared into the many folds of her clothes.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I—”

“Please, take her off our hands for a while,” V’rhil said, turning his slender neck in Ratchet’s direction. “She is actually quite harmless.”

“It’s just that,” the other Vullard picked up from where his comrade had left off, “she keeps taking our things, and—”

“I like to collect trinkets, that’s all,” the woman said, and the Vullard nearest her reached out to snatch one such item, a screwdriver, from her belt.

“And we depend on these ‘trinkets’ for our livelihood, outsider,” he said as he shook the object at her.

“Well, what say you, outsider?” V’rhil asked.

“Yes, please.” The woman clasped her hands together, an imploring look in her eyes that Ratchet just wasn’t buying. “I won’t ever threaten you again. I-” Without warning, she jumped aside as Clank approached her, and she continued to shuffle away in backward retreat even as he strode by.

“You must understand,” the robot began, “that we are justified to be a little wary when, upon our very first meeting, she wields a knife at my friend.”

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp at this statement, and V’arak said in reply, “Perfectly understandable, but we assure you, she is just a little, how should I put this, jumpy from time to time. Just know we would not knowingly put you in any danger.”

“Yes,” V’rhil steepled his fingers, “and we need as many customers as we can get.”

“Great, jumpy and likes to play with knives. _Perfect_ combination,” Ratchet said under his breath as V’arak directed a questioning look at his comrade, and the Lombax continued his objections in a much louder voice. “You know what, absolutely not! We _just_ met her, and she tried to stick a knife in me! I don’t-you know, I-I really don’t even see why we’re having this conversation in the first place! If she’s so content to stalk us, then she can take her own-” He immediately regretted these words as his mind wandered to how much more harm she could inflict upon him when sitting behind a ship’s plasma cannons. “Just…the answer’s no, and that’s it!”

With the matter at an end, or so he hoped, but he was leaving before he found out otherwise, Ratchet spun about to stomp back in the direction of Aphelion with his robotic companion following close behind, and he firmly ignored the woman’s attempts to call after him, “What do you have against carpooling, mister?”

“It _is_ better for the environment, I suppose.”

“You’re not helping, Clank.”

They arrived back at Aphelion, but as he hoisted himself into the cockpit, Ratchet fell back out again with a yelp to land on his backend in the dust at the discovery of his attacker sitting in the pilot seat with her legs tucked up beneath her.

“What are you _doing_ here? Get out!” the Lombax said as he jumped to his feet without caring to dust himself off, but she showed no signs of budging.

“What _I_ am curious about is how you got here so quickly?” Clank asked.

“It’s a small asteroid,” she said with a shrug. “V’rhil said he’d give you a refund if you let me come with you,” she continued, and her face turned somber. “I understand why you’re reluctant, and I really am sorry about my behavior back there, but I’m sure I can be of some help you. I’m more reliable than I look. You said you don’t know what you might be getting into, so maybe having three on your side might be better than two.”

The Lombax growled. “Look, we can’t—”

“If you want me out of here, you’re going to need to pick me up. And I kick. And bite. I also haven’t cut my nails in a while.”

Ratchet chewed on his lower lip, his friend’s advice to count to ten in such circumstances hardly helping. At last, he managed to get out, “How much of a refund are we talking here?"

* * *

“I really wouldn’t call ten bolts a refund,” Ratchet said as he returned Aphelion to the proper course, the signal, thankfully, easily picked up again after a little searching.

“Just be grateful you got anything. V’rhil’s a greedy, little bugger.”

He sighed. “And what did you say your name was again?”

“Ophelia Jana. Nice to meet you.” She thrust an arm out over Clank’s head, who had the misfortune, or pleasure, of being stuck in the middle of a ship really only meant to seat two. She withdrew her hand as her expression darkened. “But, don’t shorten it to anything silly. Like Phelia. Or Phil.”

Ratchet rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s good you told me, because otherwise I was planning on it.”

“If I am being quite honest here, this is actually quite cozy,” the robot said as he snuggled into his new spot.

“It’s your turn,” she whispered when he failed to reciprocate the formality.

Grumbling, the Lombax answered, “Yeah, well, I’m Ratchet,” he jerked his head in the direction of his friend, “he’s Clank. Great, now we all know each other, let’s not talk anymore, okay?”

“Ratchet and Clank?” She giggled. “What a funny pair of names. You two should be in a holo-film just for those names alone.”

“As a matter of fact, we have been,” Clank began with one finger held up. “You see, I played the spy Secret Agent Clank in a series of holo-films of the same name.”

“Uh-huh. And who was _he_?”

“Why, he was my—”

“Stop talking, Clank.”

Ophelia turned to the Lombax next for questioning. “Well, who _were_ you? I wanna know.”

“It’s not important.”

“Well, come on. Tell me.” She tilted her head and flashed a toothy grin that turned sinister as her eyes narrowed. “How much time before we reach the source of that signal?”

Ratchet opened his mouth, only to close it again. Point taken. “Well, you see, I-I was…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was…uh, Clank’s…partner. Yeah, and—”

“Actually, to my recollection, you—”

“Clank.”

“-were my butler.” The robot put a hand to his mouth, an action that came far too late. “Oh, I see. My apologies.”

She jerked back in her seat from sheer laughter, all the while managing to find room to kick her feet, and Ratchet winced at how shrill simple amusement could be. “Oh, how funny! A butler to a robot! How ridiculous!”

Ratchet aimed a glower in her direction. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

She released a couple more giggles, which cut off as soon as she saw the look in the Lombax’s eyes. “Nothing. It meant nothing.”

“No, really. ‘I wanna know’.”

“Ratchet, I really—”

“I didn’t mean _anything_ , okay? So cool it, hot head!”

“Excuse me?” Ratchet said, and the finger-pointing began. “ _You’re_ the one who tried to slice _me_ up with a knife, so I don’t think _I’m_ the one who—”

“Yeah,” she leaned towards him with little regard for the robot seated beside her, “because you’d make a nice rug, fur ball!”

“ _Fur_ ball?”

“Yeah! Fur. Ball.”

“Be quiet, both of you!” said the muffled voice of Clank as he attempted to push both of them away. “We have known each for less than an hour, and already you two are reduced to arguing like children. Where did this anger even come from?”

Ratchet gnawed on his lower lip. “I-I don’t know, but-” He turned away, silence engulfing them once again as Clank kept a close eye on the two on either side of him. And then it was over, just like that. “But, you know what, we agreed to take you along, and—”

“Ratchet.”

That one word was enough to silence the Lombax, though there was nothing his friend could do to prevent the sidelong glances he continued to aim in the woman’s direction. She, too, sent him glowers of her own, far more open than his, before she slouched in her seat and crossed her arms.

“So, what do you two _do_ , huh?” she asked with an exhalation of breath. “Not many travel this far out, so I have to assume you’re much more than actors.”

“That’s because we’re _not_ actors. Believe it or not, we’re actually…I don’t know, what would you call us, Clank?”

The robot put a hand to his chin. “Hmm, well…adventurers, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I- But, Ophelia, you’ve never heard of us?” Ratchet asked. “Not to sound arrogant or anything, but we _did_ save the galaxy a couple of times. I think that should get us, I don’t know, a _little_ fame.”

She shook her head. “Nope. But, I’ve been kinda…isolated for a while.”

“Why? Where are you from?”

She shook her head. “It-it doesn’t matter. The place is dead now anyway.”

“I see. Well, you haven’t heard of Captain Qwark by any chance, have you? He’s usually the one that takes all the _credit_ each time we save the galaxy.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of him!” She clasped her hands together. “He’s a real…”

The Lombax sighed. “Thought so.”

“A real big dummy.”

Ratchet grinned. “Hey, it looks like we might not get along so badly, after all. Did you know his middle name…is Leslie?”

“No, no, I didn’t.” She began to shriek with laughter again.

“It’s not _that_ funny.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded. “Yeah, it really is!”

Clank folded his arms, disapproval clear on his face, while the Lombax winced at each shrill squeak and giggle their newest and, hopefully, temporary companion made. Regretting his decision of humor and making a note to refrain from any jokes in the future, he asked the ship, “Aphelion, how much longer before we reach the signal?”

“Approximately 3.7 hours.”

“It gives us more time to bond!” she said, and Ratchet shuddered.

* * *

Approximately 3.7 hours later, give or take 15 minutes, a grey planet came into view before them, half of it obscured in the black crescent of an encroaching nightfall, and Ratchet steered Aphelion in the direction where she indicated the signal to be originating, thankful that it was on the side that still maintained daylight. It wasn’t the friendliest looking planet around, for as they approached, the grey was revealed to be a churning sea of dark clouds that was illuminated in patches from the electricity arcing about within.

Once they entered the cloud mass, they would be put at risk of low visibility at best and being fried to a crisp in a lightning strike at worst, and he swallowed as he pushed the yoke down, and they dipped towards the tempest below.

“Hang on, you guys!”

And then everything was dark, their faces visible only in the glow of Aphelion’s dashboard, and Ratchet didn’t have to look over to know Clank and Ophelia were both as tense as he. And then the screaming began as a thick bolt of lightning surged forth in front of them, and Ratchet swerved, only to jerk the yoke in the opposite direction when another flashed beside them, and it was sheer luck and Lombax instinct that kept them from being struck a dozen times. And yet, once they broke through the ceiling of clouds, they shrieked in unison at the sight of the ground opening up to meet them far sooner than it had any right to be this early into their descent, before they were sent spinning end over end as a stray lightning bolt clipped the end of Aphelion’s left wing.

They tumbled towards the ground below, and all the while, Ratchet’s thoughts turned to the hope that, since his life wasn’t flashing before his eyes, that could only be a good sign, along with a new oath that, if they managed to survive this, he really needed to heed Clank’s advice from now on. Well, at least _most_ of the time. Okay, that wasn’t going to happen, so he might as well just take that back.

The last thing he saw was a swirl of greens and browns and greys before the free fall was broken by what he could only guess was the flora below, and, as quickly as their tumble began, it was over. The screaming was replaced by groaning, and the Lombax picked his aching body off the dashboard he was now draped over and proceeded to ensure that every part of his body was still intact. He finished his inspection with his tail. Yep, still just as…there as ever.

“Clank? Ophelia? You guys okay?”

“My internal diagnostics confirm that I am fully functional,” Clank said, though he placed a hand to the side of his head with a grimace.

“Well, let’s get going and find whoever sent that distress signal,” Ophelia said, and with that, she opened Aphelion’s cockpit and leapt clear.

Ratchet was drenched by the heavy rainfall within seconds as his fur plastered to his body, and he blinked the water from his eyes as he stretched an arm out in her direction. “Hey, slow down, we don’t even know what’s out there yet!”

“Oh, dear,” the robot said as he inspected his hands, “I hope I do not rust.”

“Let’s just try and find shelter as fast as we can, okay, buddy?” The Lombax climbed out of the cockpit, calling out the woman’s name all the while, though she was lost to sight through rain that fell like a curtain about them.

“Where has she gone?” The robot stopped beside him to gaze up at his companion.

“You know what, forget her. We’ll just find a place to wait out the storm, and then we’ll find that Lombax. Or… _whoever_ they are.”

Clank looked back only once more at the unfamiliar wilderness surrounding them and at their smoking ship, before he followed his friend into the undergrowth.

* * *

While the planet was densely covered in a wide variety of plants and the ground overtaken by a web of thick roots, the foliage did little to prevent the rain from beating down upon them. And as they trekked through the mud on their search for somewhere relatively dry to spend their time until the storm died down, Ratchet swore some of the plants had a less than friendly air about them, while others swayed in a manner that seemed to be more purposeful than he was comfortable with, and he wondered how effective his pyrocitor would be in the rain.

As it turned out, they soon discovered that they had landed, or crashed, if he was being at all honest with himself, atop a high mountain peak overlooking nothing but mist and another layer of storm clouds just as enraged as the one that loomed above, and they had to turn back several times when they came upon the sheer slopes that marked the end of where they could safely wander. Their trek was made even more hazardous, or at least, _annoying_ , thanks to a rather vicious species of toad that nibbled at the Lombax’s heels, his robotic companion safe from harm on his back, but they were nothing a few shots from his blaster couldn’t take care of. Or a few kicks.

The pair eventually stopped beneath an outcropping of rock where only the spray of rain blown by the wind reached, and Ratchet got to wringing out his clothes and his ears. But, building a fire for warmth and to speed up the drying process was impossible, and so was finding any comfort in the damp, especially when a few dozen grubs popped out of a patch of mud next to where the Lombax was sitting. Night fell not terribly long later, and the only illumination came from the green glow of Clank’s eyes and the flashes of lightning, which no longer caused them to start after the first several dozen times it happened.

Why couldn’t someone have gotten stranded on Pokitaru? Or anywhere _else_ , for that matter.

After a lovely night of shivering and attempting to snuggle up next to his friend before he remembered that robots lacked body heat, Ratchet’s stomach was grumbling, and he tried to think of the grubs he had inadvertently sat in yesterday evening to try and quell any sort of appetite he might have. The storm even now showed no signs of stopping anytime soon, and they were left with no choice but to continue their wandering right from where they had left off with the hopes of finding what they had come here for. And their new comrade, according to Clank, though the robot surely couldn’t blame him for leaving her behind if they didn’t know where she was to begin with. Okay, they probably needed to find her, too. He couldn’t say he was going to try that hard, though.

The Lombax tried a couple different fruits he had picked on their walk by, though several made him gag, and he had to spit out a mouthful of another when he caught a worm peeking out of a hole in the bit he still held in his hand. Only one type was relatively edible, a purple fruit with fuzzy skin and a pale inside, and all the while he ignored Clank’s warnings that the food here might be poisonous. With their luck lately, it probably was.

They spent the better part of a day wandering and shoving their way through walls of ivy that had intertwined themselves about the thick trees like leafy webs, and it was with no shortage of pleasure when they stepped into a more open clearing to spot a structure not a terrible distance away.

“There’s a building up ahead, Clank! We can get out of this storm! And maybe that’s where the signal’s coming from!”

The Lombax began to dash forward, uncaring of the mud that splashed onto his boots, and he pushed his way through the next group of bushes that blocked his path. And then he found it, a sprawling complex built onto a hilly landscape, and he couldn’t stop a grin from overtaking his face, though at the comfort that would soon be theirs above all else.

But, as he stepped forward, he was stopped in his tracks, his earlier cheer diminished, when a familiar voice met his ears.

“How nice of you to stop by.”


	3. Some People Are Just Sick

Ratchet groaned as Lawrence, the butler and cohort of Dr. Nefarious himself, emerged from behind the nearby thicket of trees with a blaster aimed at them from beneath the relative comfort of a black umbrella he held in his other hand, the color of choice for all posh people, looking positively bored about the whole thing.

“We were starting to wonder if you were ever going to show up,” Lawrence said.

“No! Oh, no, don’t-” Ratchet began, at a clear loss for words, not to mention an uncertainty as to whether or not he might, in fact, be hallucinating the whole matter thanks to those strange fruits Clank had warned him about. At last, practice made perfect, and he was able to get out, “Don’t tell me we came all this way…for _you_ two!”

“I’m afraid so. Come with me please.”

“But, how did you…that was a Lombax… _you’re_ the ones who sent that distress signal, right? I mean—”

“I _could_ tell you, but my…employer would rather do it himself. I can’t guarantee it will be entirely comprehendible, however.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but we’re not going anywhere,” Ratchet said as he pulled out his Negotiator. “Huh, bigger gun. Looks like _I_ win.”

“Oh, silly me,” Lawrence said, “I’ve almost forgotten.” The robot pointed skyward, and the Lombax’s gaze rose to alight on a weapon of rather large proportions rising out of the trees before aiming right at the spot where he and Clank were standing. “Heat-seeking missiles. What was that you were saying about a ‘bigger gun’?”

Ratchet’s attention dropped back down to the portly robot, who still looked thoroughly unimpressed, even at having gained the upper hand. “Why didn’t you just start out with that?”

“Right this way please.”

The butler directed them to walk ahead of him, and they were brought inside the sprawling complex Ratchet was no longer particularly thrilled about reaching, especially once he learned it didn’t provide shelter from the rain quite as much as he had hoped. The place had obviously been abandoned for some time, based on the way the ceiling leaked and the vegetation from outside had pushed its way in through the floor tiles and the air ducts. And there was a suspicious scent in the air that reminded the Lombax very much of mold, and based on his luck, _toxic_ mold, no doubt. And of course, _he_ was the only one who had to worry about such a thing. Sometimes being an organic wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

After traversing a series of cold and gloomy rooms and hallways, during which Ratchet could’ve sworn Lawrence stole one strand of his fur when he wasn’t looking due to a pinch on the back of his neck that the butler denied any responsibility over in a manner that was just a bit _too_ innocent, they eventually stopped in an office of sorts that had been fixed up marginally better than what they had just passed through. Of course, “better” was a term used loosely in this circumstance, as even here, several buckets were arranged about to collect the trickle of rainwater from above. But, what made Ratchet reach for his belt most of all, before remembering he had been made to leave his weapons behind, was the one seated behind the desk, and though this person remained hidden from view behind a tall chair that was kept turned away, Ratchet knew exactly who it was.

“So we meet again, the squishy and his pet robot,” said a grating voice they knew all too well. “What a shame it couldn’t have been under better circumstances.”

The Lombax’s ears drooped, not just at the confirmation of who this was, but in anticipation of how longwinded the supervillain could be. “Cut the crap, Nefarious. We know you want something from us, so why don’t you just get to the point so I can refuse already?”

“Oh-ho, getting a little cranky, are we, Lombax? Oh, yes, I’ve forgotten, felines don’t like getting their fur wet.” The scientist chuckled. “Aren’t you at all curious how we ended up here in the first place? _Well_?”

Ratchet scratched his head. Was it just him, or did Nefarious’ voice sound…stuffy? Shaking the thought from his mind, he said, “Fine, Nefarious. I’m sure you’re dying to get into one of your monologues anyway.”

“Splendid. Well, where should I begin—”

“How about you start by telling us what happened to your space—”

“This is _my_ monologue, you twit! _I’ll_ decide how it begins!” Nefarious said, only for his rage to be cooled by an unwitting cough. “Oh, yes, well…” he continued, unable to resist a sniff, “you’ve seen it, have you? Then, you no doubt know that someone set off an EMP—”

“Yeah, so how did you and Lawrence—”

“Would you be quiet!”

“My apologies,” Lawrence told Ratchet in a hushed voice from his place at the doctor’s side, “he’s been rather, how shall I put it, fussy as of late.”

“So the usual, then.”

“I said be quiet! How can I do a proper villainous monologue with you fools constantly interrupting me?”

“I’m _sorry_ , but you’re taking forever to get to anything!” the Lombax said. “And can’t you at least face us when you talk to us?”

The doctor snorted, the only proof Ratchet’s comment had been heard, even if it remained ignored. “As I was saying, someone managed to sneak into my space station, and…”

“And then he was kidnapped.”

“Lawrence, I swear, if you say _one_ more word…” Dr. Nefarious spun about in his chair and struck the desk with both fists, but it was not his outburst that caused Ratchet and Clank to draw back in surprise.

“What _happened_ to you?” Ratchet asked.

“Oh, dear,” was all Clank could say, for before them was not the Dr. Nefarious they knew, but the organic one from before his transformation into the robotic supervillain they had faced so many times prior. It was clear life had not been kind to him in the recent past, thanks to the fading evidence of cuts and bruises that had yet to vanish entirely, and the scar he had received over his right eye, courtesy of Ratchet’s bomb several years prior, remained, but it was him, nonetheless.

“The vid comics don’t do him justice,” Ratchet whispered to his friend, whose response was merely an admonishing frown, before the Lombax burst into sniggers.

“Don’t you _dare_ laugh at me!” the organic Nefarious said. “I am still the greatest supervillain to have ever lived, and I will still annihilate you before—” But, his tirade was put to an early end due to a pause whose reason was explained several seconds later when he sneezed, and Ratchet started laughing harder than ever.

“Caught a little cold, eh, Nefarious?”

His amusement was cut short, however, when, with a snarl, the scrawny Kerwanoid pulled out a blaster and left a smoking crater in the wall mere inches from Ratchet’s head. The room grew silent, save for the raindrops, those inside and out, and the supervillain’s heavy breathing.

“H-hey,” Ratchet began, moving his hands in a downward motion in the most calming manner he knew, “take it easy, okay? Why don’t-why don’t you put the gun down and—”

“Not another word, squishy.”

“Sir, it will be rather difficult for them to help us if you’ve reduced them to smoking carcasses.” Lawrence added in a softer tone, “Plus, I know _I’ll_ be the one stuck cleaning up the mess.”

“Do you want to be next, Lawrence? Now, I don’t want to hear another word from _any_ of you until I’ve finished my evil, villainous monologue. Do I make myself clear?”

They all nodded.

The doctor eased himself back into the seat behind him, his sour expression not once wavering, which wasn’t exactly a very comforting sign when his blaster remained aimed at the Lombax, who seemed to be a very popular target for maniacs with weapons these days.

“As I was saying,” he began in a low growl, “ _someone_ snuck into my space station. And it’s none of your business what happened because all you need to know is he somehow managed to turn me back into…this and locked me up in his ship. When-” Nefarious groaned and put a hand to his head, and Ratchet released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding when the scientist set the gun down with a clatter upon his desk. “You see what a sorry state I’m in? I can’t even do a proper monologue. I’ve forgotten how achy squishies get.”

“Getting bludgeoned over the head and surviving a crash has a way of doing that, sir,” Lawrence said, though the supervillain merely buried his face in his arms in response.

When it was clear Nefarious was in the middle of an exceedingly rare bout of silence that may never be witnessed again for at least a couple centuries, were he to live that long in the form he currently possessed, the robotic butler mimicked clearing his throat and spoke up again. “If I may be so bold as to continue, as you most certainly have guessed, we haven’t a clue who did it, but I was able to sneak onto his ship before he set off the EMP device, and I stayed hidden until we were able to escape by stealing his ship the next time he made a stop. I was unable to get a good look at him, however, as he was wearing the most ridiculous outfit I had seen since last the Q-Force was active. Honestly, I don’t know when a proper suit and tie went out of style.”

Lawrence sighed at this most unsettling trend in fashion before he continued, “Anyway, if _someone_ hadn’t insisted this would be a perfect place to hide out for a while, we wouldn’t have ended up crashing here to begin with. Or if that someone _also_ wasn’t so determined to believe that a nearly empty fuel tank was nothing to worry about.”

The scientist grunted as Clank directed a meaningful glance up at his friend. Well, if a supposed genius could overlook such a thing…

“Well, I’m sorry about your luck,” Ratchet said, “but now _we’re_ stranded here. And what makes you think we’d want to help you? On second thought, why the Lombax distress signal in the first place? And _how_?”

It appeared to take some effort for Nefarious to sit up straight again (having a head that size, it was no wonder, cold or not), his arms remaining folded on his desk as he blinked lethargically at them, looking like he had an impending nap sneaking up on him. “How _else_ could I have made you come running?” He yawned. “Plus, your ship is the only one in the galaxy that can decipher a Lombax LKI encryption key. As for _how_ I did it, I _could_ explain it to you, but I’d need to use a lot of big words your feeble squishy brain wouldn’t understand.” He steepled his fingers, before giving a nod to Lawrence, the gesture a silent signal to leave the room. “And you _will_ help us, Lombax. Whether you like it or not. If there’s someone out there capable of breaking through my ingenious defense—”

“Besides us, of course.”

“-then—”

“And Qwark.”

The doctor glowered at him and drummed the fingers of one hand on his desk. “Are you through?”

“Go on.”

Nefarious cleared his throat. “If there’s _someone_ with such power, I think it would be in your benefit to stop them, as well, squishy. If he could get away with such insolence,” he sighed, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the entire galaxy could be in danger. And—”

Ratchet couldn’t prevent a bark of laughter from slipping out, only to suppress any further mirth when he remembered what happened the last time he had made such a noise. “Since when do _you_ care about what happens to the galaxy?”

The doctor pushed himself to his feet and marched around the desk to better close the distance between them, the Lombax’s amusement seeming to have sparked some of his old energy. “I _don’t_ care, you twit! But, I can’t have some _other_ villain taking what’s rightfully mine! If countless planets are going to be decimated and innocent civilians annihilated, it has to be by _my_ hand!” His voice lowered to a sinister growl, and he clasped his hands together as a most wicked grin spread across his face. “And most of all, after what he did to me, I have some very special…plans in mind for next we meet.”

“Well,” Ratchet said, “if there’s someone out there that wants you stopped, you’re going to find it very difficult to convince me to confront them about it.”

The doctor rolled his eyes. “Are you really that thick, Lombax? When has anyone with such abilities ever been on _your_ side?” He tapped his rather large head with one finger. “Think, squishy, and if you mean to tell me he plans to use that for…the powers of good, you’re an even bigger moron than I imagined.”

Ratchet moved to the door, and with his hand set upon the doorknob, he said, “Sorry, Nefarious, but you’re on your own. I’m not about to side with you on one of your vendettas. If this person, whoever he is, is a threat, Clank and I can take care of it on our own, and you can just rot here like you deserve.”

Dr. Nefarious merely chuckled to himself, a sinister glint visible in his eyes. “Well, I can’t say I expected any different. You’ll give in eventually. You’ll see.”

Ratchet opened the door. “And don’t even think about stealing _our_ ship. Aphelion’s too smart to let scumbags like you run off with her.” With that, he left the room with Clank following close behind.

“You’re just as stuck here as _we_ are, Lombax!” Nefarious called after them.

“No, we’re not!”

Ratchet marched down the hallway, grateful that even Nefarious wasn’t as relentless as Ophelia had been when he had denied her requests, and he shivered when a drop of water landed on the back of his neck. “I can’t believe they actually think we would help them. Heck, I can’t believe I fell for that suspicious distress signal.” He slowed to step carefully over a rather large puddle that had formed in the middle of the hallway. “By the way, you were awfully quiet back there.”

“I was thinking,” Clank said.

Ratchet stopped and turned back to the little robot behind him, who had less trouble sidling by the puddle thanks to smaller feet. “I sure hope you’re not going to tell me I _should_ help Nefarious. _Are_ you?”

Clank shook his head. “Not at all. But, Ratchet, Dr. Nefarious does have a point. Whoever managed to overpower him with such ease is not someone we should take lightly, if this person has evil intentions. And if he is merely a…vigilante, what do you think he planned to accomplish by kidnapping the galaxy’s most-wanted criminal? Would he have not just taken him to the authorities?”

“I have no idea,” Ratchet said as he turned to continue their retreat, and he gasped when he kicked a bucket he hadn’t noticed was behind him and knocked it over. He hopped about in pain, a dance his friend could only watch, until the Lombax continued in a strained voice, “But, you know what, the only thing on _my_ mind right now is getting off this planet!” Despite his previous efforts to stay dry, one boot was now thoroughly soaked from the water that had rushed forth from the bucket in a wave, and he headed down the hallway at twice the pace as before, his footfalls squeaking with every other step.

“I do not believe even _that_ will be easy. Aphelion is damaged, and—”

“You think I don’t know that? I’ll just repair her, and we’ll get out of here once the storm clears.”

“And there is always that missile launcher Lawrence pointed out to consider.”

“Right, that. Well, we’ll just figure that out when the time comes. Right now, we just need to get out of here before I get anymore guns aimed at me.”

Speaking of guns…

When the duo reached the entrance of the decaying facility, no sign of their weapons could be found, and Ratchet didn’t need to look over to know who was responsible. “Okay, Lawrence, where did you put them?”

The butler glanced over with only half an interest as he set a bucket beneath the newest leak. “Excuse me? Have I apparently done something?”

Ratchet approached the robot and thrust out a hand. “Hand them over.”

Lawrence put a hand to his chin and feigned deep thought. “Oh, yes, do you mean your weapons? Why, we couldn’t have you running around with such dangerous things. But, perhaps if you asked nicely…”

“Okay, can we _please_ have our weapons back?”

“No, but thanks for trying.” The robotic butler hefted a bucket in his arms that had just begun to overflow. “Though, I do wish _some_ people practiced such manners more often. It would certainly make my job _marginally_ less dismal.”

The Lombax watched him with narrowed eyes as he walked by. “You know, if you think that’s going to keep us here, it’s not.”

“Glad to hear it,” Lawrence said before he disappeared through the nearest doorway.

Ratchet growled. “These last few days have _really_ been getting on my nerves.”

* * *

Dr. Nefarious was never very good at bottling up his emotions. In fact, he was, more often than not, quite prone to releasing these emotions, which usually came in the form of fury or rage or any other manner of unpleasantness, the moment they came to his attention. There were times he could be patient, however, because what good was a proper incensed tirade when there was no one to take it out on?

That was one of the few things Lawrence was good for, the stupid twit.

The supervillain had since returned to his chair, which he was certain would sprout some sort of infectious mold any day now thanks to all the blasted damp, and all of his butler’s efforts to convince him otherwise would not sway him. Of course, if he was still a robot rather than the pathetic squishy he had been long ago, when people used to laugh and tease him for what they went so far as to dub a “deformity”, he wouldn’t need to worry about disease or whatever other itching or oozing the mold most certainly festering around him would eventually inflict him with. If he was still a robot, he wouldn’t have this horrid runny nose and scratchy throat, and he wouldn’t be subjected to that terrible medicine his butler kept forcing on him. It wasn’t helping. He was surely getting worse.

He swore Lawrence was trying to poison him.

The scientist folded his arms on the desk to rest his head on them, and though he had plenty of productive things he could be doing right now, such as continuing his work on a certain masterpiece that would aid in their escape, he simply couldn’t focus on any of that when he had an impending tantrum coming on.

What was taking Lawrence so long anyway? If he didn’t return soon, he might very well have no other choice but to hunt the portly robot down himself, which wouldn’t help his mood any.

His head jerked up at the rattle of the doorknob, which turned with a slow reluctance, and scarcely had his butler entered the room that Nefarious said, “I told you your stupid plan wouldn’t work.”

Lawrence’s disinterested blue optics met the scientist’s with a cool calmness, as if he had merely been addressed by an unruly child rather than the greatest genius in the universe, a fact he still didn’t seem to have grasped.

“They’re _here_ , aren’t they, sir?” the butler asked.

The skinny scientist pounded his fists on the desk. “And what good does _that_ do us? If you weren’t such a moron, you’d know there’s no way those two idiots would actually agree to helping us.”

He watched as his butler took up a feather duster and got to cleaning a bookcase.

“And that’s why,” Nefarious continued, “you should just let me annihilate them,” he added a few vicious jabs at the surface of his desk with one index finger for emphasis’ sake, “right now, and we can get off this rock before we drown or get struck by lightning or any other fate that might await us.” Surely the Lombax was bluffing when he made the claim that his ship wouldn’t allow itself to be stolen. Squishies weren’t the most honest bunch. And he would know, considering he _was_ one. Again.

Lawrence picked up a small statue of a prancing satyr and, with great precision, began to dust every nook and crevice of it.

“Lawrence, are you even paying attention to a word I’m saying?”

“Something about annihilating someone, yes, I heard you, sir—”

“And would you just get rid of that stupid thing already?” The scientist directed an accusatory finger at the objectionable object to which he objected. “How many times do I have to tell you I hate it? I swear, it’s always staring at me! It follows me with its eyes!”

“I highly doubt that, sir. And your belief that it’s going to kill you in your sleep—”

“Just throw it out, Lawrence!”

“But, it adds such a personal touch to the space.”

“Throw it out before I beat you over the head with it!”

Lawrence stared at him, blinking once before he approached the trash bin with a slowness like the lethargy of a lizard in a freezer, and with one, final staring contest between the two, he allowed the object to roll from his grip and land with a muffled thump in the trash receptacle.

Dr. Nefarious leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms with the smug satisfaction of victory. “That’s better.” He blinked in thought. “Now, where was I?”

“Sir, if I may, I understand your desire to murder your enemies in cold blood, but as I’ve been saying since the day you regained consciousness, wouldn’t it be far better to get some use out of them first? And in case you didn’t realize, neither of us knows how to repair a Lombax ship—”

“I could figure it out, Lawrence.”

“-if you weren’t so against going out in the rain, and even then…”

“Then, I’ll kill them _after_ the Lombax—”

“May I finish, please?”

“I don’t know, _may_ you?”

At a standstill, they both grew silent, and Lawrence fidgeted with the feather duster gripped in his hand like a magnet resisting the urge to join its opposite. Neat freak.

“Sir…”

Nefarious threw his arms up in the air. “Fine, just get on with it!” The doctor’s gloved hands met each other to steeple in front of his chin, one of the few signs he intended a level of attentiveness uncommon for him and which rarely managed to last.

Now that he had the spotlight, his butler made a show of clearing his throat, if that was possible for a robot. “Whether or not you want to admit it, Ratchet and Clank have proven themselves to be quite competent at fighting all manner of villainy, something you have very little experience in.”

Nefarious waved a hand at him. “Get to the point, Lawrence!”

“Sir, it would be to our advantage to use them to find the person who destroyed your space station, and who kidnapped you, not to mention—”

“I’m losing my patience, Lawrence!”

“What I’m trying to say is, for once, all of us want the same thing, so we might as well save ourselves the trouble and have them find this person for us. We’re not necessarily well-equipped to locate them ourselves, considering your recent fail—”

The supervillain struck the armrests with both fists. “And what makes you think they’ll cooperate?”

The robotic butler produced a small remote adorned with a single button. “In that case, the heat-seeking missiles have now been programmed to target the Lombax DNA signature thanks to that hair sample I procured.”

Dr. Nefarious clapped his hands together in villainous glee, in stark contrast to his earlier fury. “Oh, yes, how I would love to see the squishy reduced to fireworks….” He chuckled, until his gaze locked onto the device Lawrence held in his hand, and he lunged for it with one outstretched arm. “Let’s do it now, Lawrence!”

The robot pulled the remote out of his reach. “Come to think of it, I still have some dusting I simply _must_ get back to.” He turned towards the doorway with a wave of his hand. “Ta-ta!”

* * *

“Come on, Clank, let’s find our stuff and get out of here,” Ratchet said once he was certain the portly butler was out of hearing range.

That was easier said than done, however, as it seemed Lawrence was far better at hiding things on short notice than Ratchet thought possible, and the two of them spent a good several hours searching about the dank and musty facility, Clank taking charge of the lower places while Ratchet did the higher up, but by the time evening was approaching, they found themselves back where they had started, in a leaky kitchen set next to a living area with a rather damp and tattered, old couch, and they were left with no choice but to repeat the process in a manner twice as thorough as the first time. At this point, Ratchet would have scraped the paint off the walls, which wouldn’t have been so hard, really, the way it bubbled and swelled with the damp, if he had thought there was any chance it would yield results.

As Ratchet made his third sweep of the kitchen, he banged his head on the underside of a cabinet at the sound of a door opening behind him, but when his gaze jerked back in the direction of the noise, all that met his eyes was the sight of a still dripping Ophelia peeking through the doorway.

He sighed. “This day just keeps getting better and better….”

“Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you two,” she said as she sauntered into the room and planted her hands on her hips to stare at him in a manner that suggested _he_ was the one who had ran off and disappeared for hours.

“What do you mean _you’ve_ been looking for _us_? _We’ve_ been looking for _you_ ,” Ratchet said as he jabbed a finger in her direction. At least, for a short while they did. That still counted. “Where have you been?”

“Me? Oh, I’ve been here.” She began to wring her hair out into a pot that had been downgraded to the duty of raindrop collection.

Clank crawled out from beneath the couch with lint clinging to his antenna. “Ophelia, does Dr. Nefarious know you have been here all this time?”

“I never said you had to be _that_ thorough,” Ratchet said as the little robot went about wiping the dust from himself with both hands.

“Who?” Ophelia asked as she dropped herself onto the side of the couch that appeared to have been less dripped on.

“I guess not.” Ratchet turned back to his friend, who was still trying to wipe dust from his optics. “Well, we’re not having any luck here, and it’s getting late. Maybe we should head back to the ship and figure out what to do in the morning.”

“But, there are perfectly good beds here,” Ophelia said, her head swiveling to watch Ratchet as he stalked by with the heavy footfalls of someone who had had a rather trying day indeed. It was more than possible the sheer weight of the humidity in the air was slowing him down, as well. “And who is this Dr. Nefarious?”

“He is the one who sent the distress signal,” Clank said.

“And you’re not gonna help him?”

Ratchet slapped a hand to his face and spun back in her direction. “No, if the name _alone’s_ anything to go by, no, we’re not. And as for staying here, beds or not, the odds that Nefarious will try to kill us in our sleep is just a bit too high for my liking. _You_ can stay if you want, but I’m not. Come on, Clank.”

As the robot followed him to the door, Ophelia sprang from the couch with frightening speed, her voice reaching an even higher pitch than ever before. “Hey, wait, I don’t want to go out in the rain again.”

“Then, don’t,” the Lombax shot back over his shoulder.

“But, I don’t want to be left here, either.”

“Ratchet?”

“Yeah, what is it, Clank?”

“I have been thinking, Dr. Nefarious arrived here by his attacker’s ship. That could only mean it must be around here somewhere, and it might hold some clues to this person’s identity or their intentions.”

Ratchet knelt down and brushed off the dust bunny still clinging to his friend’s antenna. “You know what, Clank, that’s not a bad idea.”

When he tried to stand again, he bumped into Ophelia, again proving all the more she lacked the need for personal space. Or the basic knowledge that _other_ people did.

“Why waste our time?” she asked, nearly whacking Ratchet in the face when she flung her arms out wide. “This…Nefarious guy, you’d think he would have already found everything worth finding. Right?”

“Yeah, well, self-proclaimed ‘genius’ or no, I wouldn’t be surprised if he let a few things slip by him.”

Still not finding the Lombax swayed by her logic, she tried a different approach. “But, it’s _raining_ outside.”

It was indeed, harder than ever, in fact, but Ophelia decided to follow, after all, despite multiple reminders from the Lombax that she didn’t have to, and a nearly constant volley of complaints in between Clank’s explanation of “just what the heck was going on”, and the one bright part of a thoroughly dismal day was the fact that they actually managed to find the crashed ship just before nightfall, in a glade not terribly far from the building they had just left. The ship appeared to be in even worse condition than their own, and though Ratchet was certain it couldn’t have been here all that long, the tendrils of vines and roots were already attempting to engulf it, as if nature itself was trying very hard to erase any evidence of something so foreign to it.

“This must be the ship Dr. Nefarious and Lawrence commandeered,” Clank said, and with a little coaxing, Ophelia, the only one fortunate enough to still be armed, started hacking away at the vegetation with her knife, and once an entrance had been cleared to a proper degree, it took the effort of all three of them to pry the door open just enough so they could squeeze inside.

It was dark inside the ship, but enough light from the setting sun shown through the windshield where the vines had yet to cover, and they got to inspecting the small space, comprised of a cockpit and a larger section in back, Ophelia included, regardless of her earlier belief that such an endeavor was pointless.

“And _how_ did Lawrence manage to hide out in here?” Ratchet asked as Ophelia created quite a racket checking out all the storage compartments.

“Well, all the weapons appear to have been taken, just like I thought they’d be,” she said. “I mean, I would assume there would’ve been weapons.”

“Based on the presence of electrical field generators designed to separate the back from the cockpit, this ship appears to be from Zordoom Prison,” Clank said as he climbed into the pilot seat and began pressing buttons on the console, “the kind used to transfer prisoners, in fact. But, I do not suspect it was a prison guard who is responsible for this.”

The Lombax stopped behind his friend and rested one elbow on the back of the seat. “Find anything yet, buddy?”

“Why, yes, I believe I have located the pilot this ship was assigned to.” But, when he pulled up the image on the screen, all they found was a fidgety looking Rilgarian.

“Yeah, well, _that’s_ certainly not our guy.”

Ophelia shoved Ratchet aside in an attempt to get a better look at the screen. “Lemme see, le- Oh, yeah, ew.”

Effectively pushed from his spot, Ratchet retreated to Clank’s side and sat against the console behind him with his arms crossed. “Anything else?”

“Let me see.” The robot’s eyes squinted in concentration. “I seem to have found the previously programmed coordinates—”

“Perfect!”

“- _and_ I have found a rather interesting file here, as well. It was created in the recent past, but it is encrypted.”

“Well, can you decipher it?”

“I could try, but—”

“How do you know that’s not just something from the guy before?” Ophelia asked.

Clank looked back at her. “This uses a very advanced encryption key. Plus, prison transport ships do not store sensitive information. It is too easy for them to be stolen, as this case proves.” He turned back to the screen. “Unfortunately, I am not familiar with this form of encryption, and I cannot guarantee I would be able to decipher it.”

Ophelia folded her arms on the back of the chair and rested her chin upon them. “It’s probably nothing anyway.”

“I am sure,” the little robot continued, “that Dr. Nefarious would have no trouble deciphering this for us.”

Ratchet buried his face in his hands. “Don’t tell me we have to go back. Are you sure you can’t do it? Or anyone else?”

“Or we can always not bother,” the red-haired woman said with a flip of her hand as she turned to stroll back to the ship’s exit.

“If anyone would be able to decipher it, it would be Dr. Nefarious. And if he wishes for us to help him, perhaps he would be more willing to return the favor.”

“But, we’re _not_ going to help him,” Ratchet said, but his friend’s attention had returned to the console.

“Anyone have a holo-disc? Never mind. I might just know where one is.” Clank opened the compartment in his torso and pulled out the very object in question. “Found it.”

“Secret Agent Clank indeed,” Ophelia said, and the robot giggled, despite the absence of humor in her voice.

Clank downloaded the file onto the holo-disc, and then they were on their unmerry way back in the direction of Nefarious’ makeshift base, and though Ratchet was in no rush to speak to the one they sought, it was the lowering sun that spurred them on despite these reservations. They arrived at the front door before the hour was up, but when the Lombax attempted to shove the door open, Clank halted him with a raised finger.

“I believe it would be more polite if we knocked.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“We are asking Dr. Nefarious for help, not attempting to stop him from galactic domination.”

“Yeah, and why don’t we just ask them for a cup of sugar while we’re at it?”

The little robot rapped on the door, and they waited, Ratchet occupying the time by crossing his arms and tapping one foot, while Ophelia pulled her mane of hair over one shoulder and attempted to wring it out in the still pouring rain.

The door opened at last to reveal Lawrence, who gazed at them with the usual bored disdain. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes,” Clank began, “we found an encrypted file on the ship you arrived here by, and we were hoping Dr. Nefarious would decipher it for us.”

The butler eyed Ophelia with a raised eyebrow, had he possessed any. “Wipe your feet before you come in, if you would be so kind. I only just mopped.”

The three all looked at each other, but he didn’t step aside until they had obeyed his wishes, Ophelia taking her shoes off entirely and leaving them on the doorstep before they entered, and Lawrence disappeared down the nearest hallway with a, “One moment, please.”

“I get warts when my feet are wet,” Ophelia told Ratchet, who frowned at having such a personal detail shared with him, though she didn’t seem to catch the expression when she was too busy staring at her feet as she wiggled her toes.

“I see you’ve returned, squishy,” came the usual harsh voice of Dr. Nefarious as he marched into the room with his hands folded behind his back. “You came crawling back sooner than I expected.”

Ophelia, whose mouth had fallen open upon the scientist’s arrival, uttered a soft, “That’s certainly a noggin.”

Nefarious aimed a leer in her direction, irritation outweighing any surprise he may have otherwise felt at the presence of a fifth in the room. “And who the heck is _this_ twit? Don’t tell me there are _three_ of you now!”

“She’s just a stray we picked up,” Ratchet said.

“ _Excuse_ me?”

The Lombax took the holo-disc that Clank held up and stepped forward. “Not that I’d like to start making a habit of asking my enemies for help, but…we need you to decipher this for us.”

The scientist extended a hand, palm up. “Well, hand it over, then.”

“We found it—”

“Yeah, yeah, Lawrence already told me. Now give it here!” Dr. Nefarious snatched the disc away. “Why didn’t _you_ think to look in the ship’s databanks, Lawrence?”

“I did, sir. And then you called me an ‘idiot’.”

The scientist sniggered. “Oh, yes, I did. And it’s _still_ funny.”

Ratchet cleared his throat. “Uh, so…how long is this going to take?”

Nefarious spun on his heel in a most theatrical fashion to march back towards the hallway in exaggerated steps. “Patience, Lombax. You can’t rush genius,” the scientist said. “More coffee, Lawrence. It’s going to be a late night.”


	4. It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

With the sun now gone and a glance out the window all Ratchet needed to remind him just how dark it was at night on this absurdly rainy planet, he was given no other choice but to remain indoors and bide as much time as he could before he would inevitably have to go to bed in the same building as someone who had tried on more than one occasion to kill him, an unsettling thought had there _not_ been an ominous lightning storm going on outside. There was a reason most horror stories began with, “It was a dark and stormy night,” before everyone was inevitably butchered or never heard from again. In fact, it was more than possible this planet was the origin of the phrase.

And yet, what probably got to him most of all, even above being stranded on a planet far away from home, unarmed, and with the disturbing possibility that the drumbeat of raindrops would become permanently embedded in his subconscious, was the fact that everyone else seemed so casual about the whole, nightmarish matter they had all found themselves in.

Clank had since perched himself on a stool at the kitchen counter, looking as if he was merely waiting for dinner to be served, had he even needed sustenance to begin with, while Ophelia was lying sprawled across the damp sofa and twirling her hair with one finger while one leg hung off the side in such a relaxed manner, one would think it was solely for comfort and not to avoid the leak in the ceiling above. And Ratchet was stuck sitting in a dusty, old armchair that smelled like it was filled with mothballs, but which he would’ve preferred over what the source of the smell must really be, while he had the pleasure of keeping himself occupied with his newly found pastime of shivering, despite the arms wrapped about himself. Yes, what bothered him to the degree that he had only stopped gnawing on his lower lip when it had begun to throb too much, was that he was the _only_ one bothered. And the only one left that was still sane, it would seem.

With the drips of rain in the bucket beside him reminding him too much of a ticking clock and all the time he was, and had been, wasting, and without the ability to tolerate it for any longer, the Lombax finally stood, and he sighed in anticipation of what he was just about to say. “Okay, where are those beds you were talking about?”

With verbal communication seeming to be beyond her at the moment, the current occupant of the galaxy’s dampest couch shook an index finger in the direction of one dark hallway that didn’t look all that inviting.

Ratchet’s shoulders sagged. “Right. You coming, Clank?”

“Certainly,” the little robot said, as if jumping down from the stool wasn’t answer enough.

The two ventured into the hallway, the walls of which Ratchet had to feel along once his attempts at illuminating the corridor had failed after the lights had sparked in a most dangerous manner seconds after turning them on, and he managed to find several doors, each of which led to a cramped bedroom, such details only made known to him whenever the rooms were lit by the flashes of lightning outside. Unable to examine the rooms except in brief bursts, the Lombax eventually chose one completely at random, and once they were inside, he locked the door before feeling around for a chair to prop under the doorknob.

“This place seems like it might have once been some kind of research facility,” Clank said, as Ratchet backed into the bed quite by accident and fell backwards onto it, causing him to realize he had picked a room with a waterbed when the surface heaved like a disturbed lake. There was nothing like inducing nightmares of drowning to get a good night’s rest, was there?

“What could they possibly research here?” Ratchet asked as he started to feel a twinge of seasickness coming on, and his stomach grumbled. Oh, right, he hadn’t eaten since that morning, had he? It was probably for the best.… “Let me guess,” he continued, “this is where they confirmed that plants prefer it when you water them.”

“Actually, the field of botany is far more complex than you might think. In fact—”

“No, offense, Clank, but I’m _really_ not interested right now.” The Lombax started when a crash of thunder rumbled outside, the proceeding lightning doing a fine job of wiping out his newly acquired night vision, and after putting half an effort into turning onto his side, he decided against it when the surface of the bed churned again beneath him. He sighed. “It was a strange one today, wasn’t it, Clank?”

“It most certainly was.”

Ratchet glanced to the side, the darkness reducing his friend to an eerier pair of glowing, green eyes that appeared to be floating a short distance off the ground, which would have truly been an unsettling sight had he not known whom they belonged to.

“You can come up here, you know. I didn’t expect you to sleep on the floor.”

“Robots do not require sleep, Ratchet,” Clank said, but the glowing orbs drifted over in the Lombax’s direction, nonetheless, disappearing for a second or two before the robot climbed up onto the bed. “And yet, I suppose I _could_ use some rest. Even if this bed seems rather unstable.” The robot pressed on the bed with one foot, causing more ripples in its surface.

“Would you cut that out? I’m feeling nauseous enough as it is.”

The waterbed continued to jiggle, however, as Clank attempted to walk across it on footsteps as light as he could manage before lowering himself into a sitting position nearby.

“Ratchet,” the little robot began, concern slanting his eyes, “do you find Ophelia rather…odd?”

The Lombax dared enough movement to fold his hands beneath his head. “ _Do_ I? Well, _yeah_. I take it you do, too?”

“I am sure it is simply because we have not known her for very long, but I just…” His green eyes shook from side to side in the darkness.

“What? You just _what_?”

“It is nothing. There is just something about her that…bothers me.”

“Really? And this is coming from the one who trusted Captain Qwark back when he was an even bigger sleaze-bag than he is now.”

“Keep it mind that only happened shortly after I was created.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ratchet grinned, even if it couldn’t be certain whether or not the robot could even catch it. “Well, I’m just glad you’ve become a little more cautious. I—” With more urgent thoughts pushing their way into his attention, the Lombax fought against the waterbed in his efforts to sit up again, uncaring of the waves he was creating beneath him, until he had successfully propped himself up with his hands. “And speaking of being cautious, what do you think Nefarious is up to? Why do you think he contacted _us_ for help?”

“Well, we did help each other on Magnus—”

“Yeah, but only out of necessity. We certainty didn’t go _seeking_ the other out.”

“Well…” The robot’s eyes tilted to the side as he thought this over. “We _have_ defeated Dr. Nefarious numerous times in the past. If anyone was capable of helping him track down the one responsible for turning him back into an organic, it could very well be us.”

“Yeah, and all the more reason he is far more likely to _murder_ us,” he jabbed a thumb at his chest to indicate just who would be the most likely target of such an act, considering organics were the ones most prone to the crime, “than to call us for help.”

“Ratchet, while I cannot say what goes on in Dr. Nefarious’ mind, I do know it would be unwise for him to kill the only ones who can help him off this planet. From what I observed, their ship did not even have enough fuel left to leave this planet’s atmosphere, and stealing Aphelion is also out of the question due to her security safeguards.”

Ratchet’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Yeah, and so what’s stopping him from killing us and stealing _our_ fuel?”

Clank grew silent, before responding with a simple, “I do not know.”

“That’s right, we _don’t_.” The Lombax fell back onto the bed, only to regret it a second later at the miniature storm he had set into motion, literally, beneath him. “We don’t know what he’s planning or who attacked his space station, or what _that_ person’s even up to.” He sighed. “I just hope I have the right parts to repair the ship.”

The small robot considered him with half-lidded optics. “I am sure you will figure something out. You _are_ a mechanic, after all.”

“Yeah.” Ratchet’s mouth twisted into half a grin, the best he could manage under their current circumstances. “The best darn Lombax mechanic out there.”

Clank giggled.

Without even meaning to, a long yawn escaped him. “Well, I guess that’s a sign we should probably get some rest. Night, Clank.”

“Goodnight, Ratchet.”

* * *

Ratchet awoke the next morning with a raw ache in his stomach whose grumbles he at first mistook for the thunder outside until he realized they were coming from _inside_ him rather than out, and it wasn’t until now, with the grey light of morning shining through the single window, that he noticed that this room was decorated with a copious amount of Courtney Gears posters in various, provocative poses. Apparently, finding that the pop star had been sided with Nefarious wasn’t enough to deter _this_ fan, but then again, she also hadn’t tried to kill them, either. Nowadays, it seemed the list of people that _hadn’t_ tried to murder him had grown shorter than the list of those that had.

Once he managed to roll out of a bed that had been trying all night to swallow him up, he tore down these reminders of the past and stuffed the crumpled balls they had been reduced to into the trash bin. Clank, come to think of it, was nowhere to be found, and he shuffled out of the now unlocked door, grateful to still be alive after spending a night not a terrible distance from the most sinister villain in the galaxy, though his survival would count for naught if he didn’t get something to eat, and soon.

When he arrived in the kitchen, he found the small robot standing on a stool in order to more easily slice apart several fruit he had on a plate beside the sink, and Ratchet attempted to hold back a yawn as he approached his friend. “Where’d you get that?” He stopped beside the robot and rested an elbow on the counter.

“Ophelia told me about a fruit that might be more edible, so I took the liberty of gathering the few I could reach before you got up.”

“Clank, you’re going to rust going out in the rain. And why didn’t Ophelia just bring us back some food?”

“I do not know. She did return this morning with a great deal of fruit in her arms, but she brought it all to her room, and I have not seen her since.” The robot slid the plate to his friend. “I know this is not much, but it will have to do for now.”

The Lombax’s gaze dropped to the glistening, white fruit slices set before him, dotted with slimy, black seeds. It didn’t appear to be the most appetizing thing in the galaxy, but he supposed now wasn’t a time to be picky. “Thanks, buddy.”

“You are quite welcome.” Clank rinsed the knife off in the sink, while Ratchet picked up one piece of fruit and inspected it. He gave it a sniff and drew back at the most peculiar scent of sour meat. With a sigh, he took a bite, and he almost gagged at a taste that could only be described as putrid in flavor form.

“I take it you do not like it?”

“No, uh…it-it’s fine.” Resisting the urge to vomit, the Lombax swallowed and found that his breakfast also had the unfortunate side effect of leaving a slimy film down the back of his throat. Yippee.

He managed to choke down only a third of what lay on the plate (to be honest, the plate itself would’ve been preferable), and he left the rest in a small container for later, lest he found nothing better by lunch, which surely wouldn’t be the case if he managed to catch some of those toothy toads or reduced himself to eating leaves like an Oozlian lochback.

With his belly still growling at him, as much from offense as from hunger, the pair set out, armed with nothing more than the Lombax’s trusty wrench and an equally as potent foul mood. The rain was as heavy as ever, and the clouds hung so low in the sky, he almost thought the trees would pierce right through them. The toads tracked them down with a vengeance, which Ratchet beat away with his wrench, and while this was effective enough, he couldn’t help but wish for the return of his firearms when a tall and spindly bush lunged for him. A few good whacks to its…branches, and he was running for his life, and he never again doubted himself when he suspected the ferns and the trees to be watching him.

They arrived back at Aphelion after several hours of trudging and splashing through the soaked and soggy landscape, Ratchet now twice as muddied as he had been that morning, even considering he had neglected to bathe the night before. The smoke that had been rising from the ship’s fried, right wing had long been extinguished by the downpour, but that was the only improvement he could find as he did a thorough inspection about her surface.

Dents and cracks were prevalent, but the worst of it was the wing the lightning had struck, and it was here that he found exposed wiring and circuitry which had no business getting as wet as they were. Before he could attempt any kind of repair, he would need some method of getting her inner workings dry again. And though she had only been left here for just over a day, leafy tendrils were already working their way up her landing gear, forcing the Lombax to slow their encroachment by ripping them from their purchase.

Without further delay, Ratchet retrieved the tools he kept in Aphelion’s storage compartment for the very purpose of emergency repairs, but any attempts at such an endeavor were forgone after the first few minutes of tools slipping in the downpour and having to blink away a constant stream of rainwater that got into his eyes, and the two of them returned to the abandoned facility not a long while later, no sign of Ophelia present, or even the two he wished to see even less, for that matter, and they retreated to their room, Ratchet shivering as he took a better survey of what tools he had available to him, while Clank sought out towels.

It was in the middle of drying off that the Lombax caught his friend’s gaze turn to the doorway, and he looked back from where they sat on the floor, a preferable place to be when the churning tempest that was the waterbed was still just as unkind to Ratchet’s stomach as ever, empty or not.

Ophelia’s lips pulled back in a grin as she caught sight of just how much the towel had managed to puff up Ratchet’s fur, though his own facial expression was quite the opposite. And it wasn’t as if the moisture had shown any more mercy to _her_ hair, which had fallen victim to a level of frizz that made her look as if she had intercepted a lightning strike.

“Yeah, what is it?” the Lombax asked, turning away as he continued to wipe down his long ears.

“What are you guys up to?”

“We’re just trying to get the ship repaired.” He glanced back over his shoulder when she pounced upon the bed. “And you’re welcome to help us. We need tarps to keep Aphelion dry.”

She laid on her stomach and curled her legs up behind her. “You’re not going to leave before Nefarious finishes deciphering that file, are you?”

“No, but fixing the ship’s going to take time, so I might as well get started.” Drying complete, Ratchet wrapped the towel around his still shivering form.

“And then you’re still going to leave without him?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Ophelia,” Clank began, “Dr. Nefarious is a dangerous criminal. If we _did_ bring Lawrence and him with us, it would be our responsibility to take them to Zordoom Prison. While I am not as willing to abandon them here—”

“Hey!”

“-I still agree with Ratchet that we cannot help them. It is up to the _authorities_ —”

“Like _they_ ever lift a finger.”

“-to seek out the one responsible for the attack on Dr. Nefarious’ space station.”

“Yeah, and you _do_ know that _we_ ,” the Lombax jabbed his chest with one forefinger, “are going to be the ones volunteered to track down this wacko, right?”

“Why, of course. I was merely saying it was the authorities’ job to take care of this. I did not say they would actually do it.”

“Do _that_ , then.”

The Lombax looked back. “Huh?”

“Take them to prison, then,” Ophelia said, her eyes taking on a hardness not characteristic of them.

Ratchet opened and closed his mouth several times in response to this change, and he was unable to speak until his mind could better wrap around her sudden reversal in attitude regarding the fate of the mad scientist. “I-I don’t understand you. First you tell us to help them, then you say throw them in jail. It will be _more_ merciful to leave them here.”

“But, if that’s what they deserve.” She rolled onto her back and knitted her fingers together over her stomach, her demeanor turning casual just like that, even if her words belied the relaxed nature she had since returned to.

Ratchet turned to face her more fully. “You know what, _I’m_ the one stuck piloting the ship, so _I_ think I should also be the one to decide who comes with us. I gave in enough letting—”

“Ratchet.”

Ophelia’s head rolled to the side to direct an arched eyebrow at him, and he looked away, only to find himself facing a very stern-looking robot. Ratchet rolled his eyes. “Oh, give me a break!” He stood, pulling the towel from his shoulders and balling it up. “I think I need a walk,” he said when it seemed there was little chance of winning in this conversation, especially when one of those he was currently stuck speaking to kept changing their opinion, and he tossed the towel aside and stalked out of the room as Clank’s voice followed him through the doorway to call his name, but he merely doubled his pace.

As expected, it didn’t take him long to end up in unfamiliar territory, and he began to find himself in various dark labs, the living quarters left far behind. He found desks bearing old computers and messy piles of notes on which was scribbled equations and shorthand he could only guess at and which, upon closer inspection, appeared to be covered in a curious layer of yellow dust, and he found test tubes and microscopes and other instruments of science left about, as if someone still intended to return to them, along with withered plants in pots that had been long left neglected, and he cringed at a moist and rotten kind of scent of decaying plant life, but with a twinge of something else. It was the smell of old experiments left to die.

After further wandering, however, it seemed not all of the experiments had suffered the same fate, a fact Ratchet found, to his great dismay, when he opened a door to discover a churning mass of vines and flowers of scaled petals overtaking the back half of the room, where a fallen tree had crashed through the roof and let the rainwater in. Needless to say, once the monstrosity began to reach for him, he closed the door and left the scene with all due haste.

As the Lombax made his way through the murky gloom of a maze of rooms that had seen better days and whose humidity level almost seemed to rival that of outside, his fur began to fall victim to an impending fluffiness he hoped would calm down before he ran into anyone who might wish to mock him, namely, everyone but Clank, and, propelled by curiosity and a desire to simply go onward, along with a growing concern that he wouldn’t be able to find his way back again anyway, he came upon further evidence than ever of the planet’s efforts to return this place to nature.

Roots and vines hung down in tendrils through dripping holes in the ceiling, some of the damage surely caused by a fire based on the blackened rafters surrounding them, while some rooms had flooded where the floor had sunken in, and he found an entire wing slanting at a dangerous angle that he didn’t dare enter. But, what stopped him most of all was one particular set of double doors that stood out from all the others, for this was the only one he had found that was barricaded shut with several mops and brooms, cracked nearly in half, that had been stuck through the door handles, the unsettling scene made even more so due to the tables and chairs and whatever other pieces of furniture the former occupants of this place had thought fit to press up against it.

The Lombax padded closer to inspect the blocked door, and he stepped carefully around the mess of chair and table legs until he was able to press his face to the narrow windows in the doors’ surface, and he could just catch a few indistinguishable shadows through the mist that had collected on the windowpanes. He drew back, and his eyes moved to a long crack that ran nearly the entire height of the door, and he traced one finger along it.

“That wasn’t there when we arrived, you know.”

It was a miracle Ratchet remained upright, though he did create quite a racket as he tripped and crashed through the jumble of furniture he had cornered himself in, and once free, he flung his back to the nearest wall, chest heaving, only to find nothing more than the squat form of Lawrence watching him with half-lidded optics.

“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” the butler asked, even if he knew full well the answer.

“N-no, but…what are you even doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

When it seemed that was all the answer that would be offered him, Ratchet slid down the wall behind him until he was sitting on the floor, and he draped his arms over his knees. “Hey, uh…Lawrence,” he looked over as the butler in question drew nearer to do his own inspection of the state of the barricade. “you’re not, well, insane, I think, so I guess I may as well ask…you can’t possibly think we would actually work with you two? Do you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“So, why bring us here?”

The butler’s blue gaze turned to him, all the more obvious in the gloom, only to leave him a moment later when the robot turned away with a shrug.

“Oh, come on! I’m sure you know Nefarious’ reasoning,” Ratchet said, following the robot with his eyes until Lawrence turned back to him upon reaching a less cluttered section of the room and folded his hands over his ample stomach. “Why _us_? Why not some other poor, unsuspecting idiot?”

“Sending a signal in Lombax was the only way to control who would respond. It’s not terribly easy to be picky with a…distress signal otherwise,” the butler said quite simply.

For a reason Ratchet couldn’t quite explain, his shoulders sagged, and he asked, “So…it has nothing to do with us, after all?”

“Of course, it does.” Lawrence sighed. “Don’t tell him I said this—”

“No problem.”

“-but, frankly, it is a rather low place to be for a…supposed…‘supervillain’, though, I must say, ‘super’ is a tad overdoing it—”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“-not to mention ‘villain’—”

“Okay, I get it!”

Lawrence mimicked clearing his throat. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, it is a low place when one has no one to turn to but one’s own enemies. Normally, I’m the one stuck bailing him out of trouble after he gets himself locked in closets or reduced to a dismembered head, you know, the usual, but now—”

“We’re all you could think of?”

The butler inclined his head in a single nod. “Precisely.”

“But,” Ratchet returned to his feet, “doesn’t he have _anyone_ out there that would even be _remotely_ willing to help him?”

“Believe it or not, he’s not terribly popular.”

“And…why can’t he help himself? _He’s_ the one who claims to be a genius,” the Lombax said, striding by on his way to have a look out the windows. He could really use some fresh air in this musty, old place, even if merely _gazing_ upon fresh air was the closest thing he could manage at the moment.

“At least, as rumor would have it,” Lawrence said under his breath, but certainly loud enough for the Lombax to catch, and his voice picked up again as he continued, “Well, you see, there’s not a great deal we can do. We have no means of escape, and even then, we’d be hard pressed to get on our feet again. You must understand, it has been rather hard on him to have been returned to his previous form, even more so than the loss of his space station, I think. Of course, that happens so often, it’s really something he should be used to by now.”

“Well, he won’t be getting any sympathy from me.” Ratchet stopped by the window and looked back. “And it’s not _that_ bad being a…uh…‘squishy’,” he finished, mimicking quotation marks with his fingers.

“Apparently he doesn’t share your sentiments.”

“Obviously.” The Lombax pulled up the slats of the blinds to peek outside, only to draw back at what met his eyes. “I can’t believe it! It _still_ raining?”

“It’s been raining the entire time we’ve been here, I’m afraid.”

Ratchet directed a wide-eyed gaze back at the robot behind him. “What? Are you kidding me? How are we _ever_ going to get off this planet if there’s a never ending lightning storm outside?”

“How should _I_ know? I’m just here to do the dusting and the laundry.”

The Lombax ran his hands over his face. “Well, what ever happened to the people that used to be here? Because I have a sneaking suspicion they didn’t simply get bored and leave.”

“We never found any sign of them. We did, however, manage to locate a few logs pertaining to their final days. It’s not as thorough as we would have liked, but I suppose the throes of death is not always a convenient time to write a journal entry.”

Lawrence gestured for him to follow, and Ratchet obeyed as the robot continued, “Apparently, a group of the more…cowardly members of the team attempted to escape on their only ship, which resulted in them careening off the side of the mountain when they were struck by lightning. Can’t say it was _entirely_ undeserved.” They stopped before a computer, and Lawrence bent over the keyboard as he began searching its files. “The facility is powered by the electricity gathered by the lightning strikes, whatever didn’t yet short-circuit from the rainwater, that is. In case you were curious.”

“Huh.”

“Or not. Anyway, you can read it for yourself. They’d know what happened better than I would. Plus, it’s about time for my employer’s next dose of cold medicine. What fun.”

Ratchet snorted. “Yeah, good luck on that.”

Lawrence headed for the door as the Lombax sat down to scroll through the logs, and his eyebrows lowered as he made a quick scan of the files before him. “Lawrence, the last entry is dated only about a month before you guys got here.”

The robotic butler stopped in the doorway. “I know.”


	5. It’s Like You Can Read My Mind

Ratchet spent the next several hours skimming over the logs of the team whose presence was now absent from this cold and eerie place (while a morbid envy crept into his mind before he could push it back), and yet he found little evidence of what had become of them all. They detailed countless experiments, including multiple mentions of injuries related to the sentient plant life, bites, acid burns, poisonous spores, and all manner of other fun things, courtesy of the plants native to the region and those they had altered through genetic experimentation, along with their, surprisingly, failed attempts at growing vegetables due to the soil here being _too_ wet for their crops, an even more unfortunate finding when coupled with their realization that the supply ships couldn’t break through the barrier of clouds. It was a miracle their own ship had made it through, they said, though he had his doubts “miracle” was really the right word for it.

Aside from learning more of what he already knew and adding to his growing list of “painful ways he might die soon”, Ratchet could find no more, as the logs eventually devolved into hysteria before the Lombax could make out how they had met their end in such a manner so as not to leave any trace. And as hard as he tried to make sense of the gibberish ramblings of one Professor Bertrim, AKA “one of the last”, he couldn’t find any clear description of what they “had locked in the greenhouse”. Based on the mental state of those who had imprisoned it, he wasn’t sure he really _wanted_ to know, either.

Once he could take no more of what he feared was a glimpse into his own future, the Lombax remained just a little while longer to seek out any supplies that would aid him in the repairs of his ship, including a few tarps and other tools that might come in handy, before deciding it was time to head back when he took notice of the curious feeling of being watched by something that probably didn’t even have eyes. With that, he scrambled back in the direction of the living quarters, his added haste quite fortunate, as when he finally reached his friend in the living room, the little robot was looking on in horror as Ophelia insisted to him that the warts on her feet were coming back.

Clank seemed quite grateful at the rescue, even if it meant another trek out into the rain so Ratchet could try his best to put a makeshift tent up around Aphelion, only to have one corner or another jerk free of their tethers at every gust of wind. Eventually, he succeeded in pinning the tarp around the battered ship, though he still couldn’t begin his repairs due to Clank’s insistence that it was far too dangerous to work on live circuits while still wet, to which the Lombax argued that it couldn’t be any worse than wielding metal in a lightning storm, an admission that only served to prove the little robot’s point further. They headed promptly back to the research facility once lightning struck just a bit too close for either of their liking, and they were reminded, in Clank’s case, just how dangerous it was _being_ metal in a lightning storm.

Upon their return, they entered the living quarters to catch Ophelia in the middle of explaining her wart situation to Lawrence as he switched out overflowing buckets and pots and trash bins with empty ones, a ritual Ratchet believed firmly to be a losing battle, and he caught the butler’s eyes narrow at the trail of mud he had tracked in. Clank had possessed the courtesy to wipe his feet before they entered, but he had been unable to convince the Lombax on the merits of showing good manners to your enemies. Frankly, he couldn’t understand why Lawrence would care to begin with when a little bit of mud surely paled in comparison to a leaking ceiling and roots growing through the floor, though, he also couldn’t figure out just what the big deal moisture rings on the coffee table was, either. It would make his life so much easier if he didn’t have to aim for coasters every time he put his drink down, but Clank could be very stern when he chose to be.

“Are you _seeing_ this? I think a wart is actually starting to grow on top of _another_ wart,” Ophelia said, but Lawrence merely eyed her before retrieving a mop from the closet nearby. At least he would have no trouble finding a bucket of water. Finding her plea ignored, she aimed the bottom of her foot at the two newcomers, and Ratchet drew back in disgust.

“I don’t want to see that!”

“You think _that’s_ bad,” Lawrence said as he began his mopping. “Now that my employer is organic again, he’s back to demanding foot massages.”

Ratchet’s eyes dropped to his muddy boot prints, but he remained silent despite the slightest twinge of guilt. When he turned back, he found Clank inspecting Ophelia’s shriveled, damp foot with obvious apprehension.

“You really should get that looked at,” the diminutive robot said. “For now, I suggest keeping it as dry as possible.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Lawrence said from behind them. Ratchet glared at him. Then again, maybe he had merely mistaken guilt for hunger. He headed over to the kitchen and opened the cabinets, as if they would somehow be less empty now than they were this morning.

“How come there is absolutely no food in here?” the Lombax asked as he glared down at a withered cockroach lying on its back with its legs curled pitifully, like some kind of cruel challenge to the famished mechanic.

“There was scarcely any left when we got here. Nothing but a few stunted vegetables they harvested before the greenhouse was sealed,” Lawrence said. “Forgive me if I neglected to save any for your arrival.”

“So what’s Nefarious been eating since then?”

The robotic butler dunked the end of the mop in the nearest bucket without a care to face the one he was addressing. “Are you asking what I’ve _actually_ been giving him or what I’ve been _telling_ him it is?”

“Uh…never mind.”

Looking none perturbed at such an admission, as vague as it was, Lawrence merely shrugged and returned to his work, and Ratchet grabbed the container housing the fruit he had tried to choke down earlier. Let’s see if his gag reflex was still working. With any luck, he had lost the use of his taste buds, as well.

Retiring to the moldy armchair, a bit of stuffing flying out of a hole in its side as he sat, the Lombax got to work on his meal, and he had to look away from Ophelia and her surely infected couch when the sight of her bare feet threatened to kill what little appetite he had left. Clank retreated to a seat of his own once his examination of her was complete, even if she wasn’t yet done poking and prodding at her toes with a morbid fascination.

“So, Lawrence, when is Nefarious going to be done with those files?” Ratchet asked as one eye squinted shut of its own accord as he tried to swallow his meager snack.

“I really couldn’t say.” His work complete, the butler proceeded to wring the mop out over the bucket.

“Do you really not know or do you just not want to tell us?”

“The latter.”

Ratchet let out a deep breath, a sour frown equal parts dismay and a very strong urge to vomit, as the butler walked by. He shoved another piece of fruit into his mouth, the rain continuing, as always, its ceaseless patter outside.

* * *

Over the next few days, Ratchet alternated between working on Aphelion’s repairs during the day and biding his time at night on an armchair whose cushions were getting flatter each time he sat on them. He began to spend much of his time alone ever since telling Clank about the logs and the sealed door in the labs, spurring the little robot to spend his days on more scholarly ventures involving further research into the team’s disappearance, while Ophelia was off doing whatever it was she did, ironic, really, when she had taken to complaining about feeling left out.

But, Ratchet certainly couldn’t be faulted for having little interest in what either were up to, as his greatest concern, aside from escaping this planet without any blaster wounds or electrocutions, was food, plain and simple. He had tried various other kinds of fruits, and he had even taken back a few toads to cook on the stove, which he found to be akin to chewing on a rubber ball. A rubber ball with warts, reminding him a bit too much of a certain someone’s feet. He vowed to never try toad again, no matter how dire the circumstance and no matter how much the foul creatures deserved it.

As a result, Ratchet found himself with a constantly grumbling stomach, which, when combined with being wet and cold, turned him into a constantly grumbling Lombax and made it rather fortunate he _was_ left to himself most of the time, as he didn’t have the best attitude towards company right now.

But, after a solid week with nothing decent to satiate his very unhappy stomach, it made him wonder just what Ophelia had been eating all this time and why he had seen so little of her, and he got up from his fungus-riddled armchair one evening and headed without further delay down the hallway. He found the door to her room to be closed, but when he knocked, he heard no answer, and jiggling the doorknob proved it to be locked.

Ratchet’s eyes narrowed. “Ophelia, open up. I…uh…just want to talk to you.”

“I’m getting changed,” came a sing-song voice from within.

“I’ll wait.”

He did indeed, and when he thought he had given her more than enough time for this, he knocked again.

“Still na-ked!”

Ratchet cringed. “Well, hurry up already!”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I’m not talking to you through the door.”

“Why not?”

“B-because. Just open the door, okay?”

He heard a click, and the door squeaked open on rusty hinges just enough to reveal an eye. “Yes?”

“You’re fully clothed behind there, right?”

She nodded.

“Well…can I come in?”

“It’s certainly possible.”

Ratchet rolled his eyes. And yet, despite the absurdity of the situation, it was not at all lost to him that her face had taken on a dead seriousness that failed to match her words, a fact he would have normally heeded if his stomach wasn’t currently in control of his common sense. “You know, _you’re_ the one who claims we leave you out, but if you’re going to hide away in your room all the time, _maybe_ that would explain it,” the Lombax said, and when she still refused to budge, he pushed on the door.

“No, you stay out!” She pushed back, but, goaded on by a ravenous stomach and the scent of food wafting from within, he shoved harder until she abandoned her post at the door to flee to the back corner of her room, but it was too late, for as he stepped through the doorway, he had already caught sight of the source of the smell, a pile of food she had hoarded, nuts and ripe fruit that looked far more appetizing than what he had yet to find and the mere scent of it sending his hunger pangs into a veritable fit.

“How long have you had all of this?” Ratchet asked, but she merely hovered closer over her secret stash as he drew nearer, a snarl twisting his lips. “You have bananas, normal, perfectly edible bananas. And…is that a dead chicken? I’ve been starving, and you’ve been…eating chicken sandwiches!”

“Get out.”

“No!”

“Get out!”

“Not until you—” His words, and his advance, were halted when he caught her reach behind her back.

“Get out of here!” Ophelia repeated, her eyes narrowing, and he was almost surprised her hackles weren’t rising like an enraged hound.

It was now Ratchet’s turn to retreat, and he stepped backwards with both hands up in front of him in what should have been the universal sign of surrender, though he had his doubts she had gotten the memo. “Hey, there’s no need for that. If you-if you take out your knife again, I-” His hands dropped so they could feel about behind him, his search ending when he remembered he had left his wrench in the living room. He sighed. “All right. I’m going.”

She continued to follow him, however, her pursuit increasing in speed and spurring on the sprint that took him out the doorway and down the corridor. A glance back to ensure she was no longer gaining on him told him that she had, in fact, stopped in the doorway to leer out at him, and once he was a safe distance down the hallway, if any distance from her could be considered safe (while it occurred to him that she might be capable of throwing her knife, as well, if she hadn’t merely been reaching for a blaster this time), he called back over his shoulder, “Good luck finding another ship to take you off this planet because you’re not coming with us!” And he didn’t care what Clank said.

* * *

Ratchet found his usual dinner of bitter fruit and some strange-looking tubers he had dug out of the ground yesterday to have become twice as appetizing after the feast (it _was_ a feast if you were as depraved as he was) Ophelia had been dining on, and after he could take no more of staring at the thick, white roots that appeared to be covered in a thin layer of short, brown hair, he set his meal aside to focus instead on some grumbling, a new pastime of his that he had been turning to more and more lately, and he was really getting into it when his two-time assailant appeared in the room with what he was sure she intended as guilt on her face. But, he wasn’t buying it.

“I’m sor—”

Ratchet shot up from his slouch. He had to be ready to flee again if it came down to it, though, at this point, he was more or less willing to fight her tooth and nail just to get one bite of that chicken she had been denying him, and he couldn’t guarantee he’d be patient enough to cook it first. “No, absolutely not,” he began, “you can’t keep threatening me, then expect me to forgive you!”

“Yeah, I know,” was all she could say, and the Lombax wrapped his arms tightly about himself, his wrench safely within arm’s reach if he found she needed a good bludgeoning, and she probably did, and he followed her with his gaze as she moved to sit in Clank’s usual spot. He better not make any mention of this minor theft, however, lest _that_ was something she’d find he needed a good stabbing over, too.

“I know we have gotten off to a less than ideal start,” she told the floor.

“Yeah, ya think?”

She glanced back over at him, and he turned away. “And I-I want us to get along, I really do, and…and maybe it would help if we got to know each other better.”

“Uh, no, warts and an obvious homicidal streak, I think I know all I could ever want.”

“You don’t trust me, I take it.”

“Gee, wherever did you get _that_ ide-” The words froze in his throat when she took out a knife, and she merely grinned at the Lombax’s sudden silence.

“Oh, stop being so jumpy!” She grasped the weapon in both hands, and after some straining, snapped the blade from the handle. “There, I’m harmless now.” She tossed it aside and plopped an elbow onto the armrest. “Feel better?”

“Well, if knowing Nefarious and his lackey are now the only people here who are armed is ‘better’…”

“Oh, you just can’t be pleased, can you?” She tucked a fist under her chin. “I know just the thing to cheer you up. Why don’t you have dinner with me? I can cook you up something tasty, and we can chat about whatever you like. ” She rubbed her belly with her free hand.

Ratchet eyed her with barely-veiled disdain. “If those things can be done without us having to be in the same room, then I’m all for it.”

Her smile fell, but she didn’t have time for much else before their conversation was interrupted by an irritating voice coming down the hallway.

“That’s it, what have you done?”

They both looked over as Dr. Nefarious stormed into the room, glowering for all he was worth (Ratchet’s guess would be about 15-20 bolts, after taxes), followed by a very unconcerned Lawrence.

“What have you done with it?” the supervillain asked again, his earlier shrieking replaced by a low growl.

Ratchet blinked in confusion at the scientist, who appeared as if his cold had taken a turn for the worse and who might just fall asleep right where he stood, had it not been for his apparent rage.

“What in the galaxy are you talking about?” the Lombax asked.

Nefarious stomped his foot. “You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about! Someone tampered with these files,” he shook Clank’s holodisc at them, and his eyes narrowed further, though from suspicion or an inability to keep them open, it couldn’t be certain, “And I’m sure the only one who would _dare_ such a thing would be a squishy!”

The Lombax met the doctor’s bloodshot gaze without the slightest degree of hesitation. “Well, _you’re_ a squishy now. Maybe you just didn’t decipher it correctly.”

Nefarious snarled. “Don’t you ever call me such a _vile_ name! Lawrence, where’s my blaster? The Lombax needs to be taught a lesson! …Lawrence?”

“Oh, right, were you talking to me?” the robotic butler asked. “Apologies, sir, but I wasn’t aware you would be annihilating anyone this evening, so I’m afraid I left your blaster back in your office.”

Dr. Nefarious rounded on the squat butler, while Ratchet and Ophelia exchanged glances. “You stupid oaf, there’s _always_ a chance I might annihilate someone! Now go back and get it!”

“Hey, Nefarious…” Ratchet said, hoping he wouldn’t regret directing the doctor’s attention back in his direction. Well, not _hoping_ , as there was no doubt in his mind that he _would_ regret the decision.

The scientist spun back to face him, his fists clenched. “What is it?”

“Why don’t…” the Lombax began, only to pause when Nefarious sneezed into his sleeve, “why don’t you take a deep breath and tell us what happened? Better yet, why don’t you tell us _what_ those files were in the first place?”

The supervillain studied the holodisc in his hand as if just now considering this very thing, before his gaze landed on Ophelia, and he replied in a low tone, as if this would prevent her from catching his words, even at such a short distance, “Not with _her_ here.”

Ratchet looked at the person in question, then back at the scientist. “Why, what’s wrong with _her_ being here?” Aside from the obvious, of course, but he could see no reason the supervillain would hate her any more than he hated everything else in the universe.

“It was _you_ , wasn’t it?” Nefarious said, thrusting an accusatory finger at her. “ _You’re_ the one who snuck into my office while I was away, weren’t you?” He began to march towards her with meaningful steps, and when he stopped before her, he leaned in closer to better stare into her eyes, but she merely stared right back with an indifference that would make Lawrence proud. If he wasn’t always so indifferent, that is.

“And why do you suspect me? I have no quarrel with you.”

“I know guilt when I see it, squishy.”

“I just tried to stab Ratchet with a knife. Maybe _that’s_ what you’re seeing.” She glanced over at the Lombax, her eyebrows arched, and continued, “But, I suppose if he wants me gone, I’m gone.” With that, she stood, and even though she continued to meet the scientist’s gaze with a firmness that would make most fidget, this all ended when she merely grinned before walking by, and everyone in the room, it seemed, watched her go.

Once she was out of sight, and out of earshot, indicated by a nod from Lawrence, Nefarious turned a curious gaze on the Lombax.

“Uh…if you’re wondering about the knife thing,” Ratchet began as he scratched the back of one ear, “it’s…kind of a long story. Well, not _long_ , but—”

The scientist rolled his eyes in a most exaggerated manner. “I don’t _care_ about that, Lombax. What matters right now is…” He paused to watch the hallway again, and though no sign of Ophelia remained, his voice lowered, nonetheless. “These files you found were not encrypted; they were code before it had been translated into something readable. Once I managed to decipher them, I found that they were, in fact, downloaded from my own brain before I was reverted back into a miserable squishy.”

Ratchet’s ears twitched. “Wait a minute! What?”

“But, they’re incomplete because _someone_ tampered with them!”

“Hey, don’t look at me! So…what files did they take?”

“I’m _getting_ to that! These ‘files’,” he began with a meaningful shake of the holodisc, standing tall with one hand tucked behind his back in a manner that would’ve been regal had anyone else done it, and if his nose hadn’t been red, “contain the plans for various weapons and devices I’ve designed over the years. The Biobliterator, the Hypernova Defense Laser, and even my prototype for the Blinking Light of Inexplicable Nausea and Paranoia, but they’re all fragmented. I’ve decoded every bit of it, but entire strings of code are missing. If you thought this person was innocent before, you certainly can’t now, squishy. This twit was actually trying to steal my ideas!”

“There really should be copyright laws against that sort of thing, sir,” Lawrence said.

“I _know_! And yet _I_ can be arrested for simply turning a few billion squishies into robots!”

The butler gave a slow shake of his head. “It hardly seems fair, does it, sir?”

“I’ll say.”

Ratchet could no longer deny that the deranged supervillain actually had a pretty good point for once, and he tried not to think about what his kidnapper could have possibly wanted with the contents of his dark and twisted mind. As far as he could surmise, nothing nice resided in the scientist’s brain, and the Lombax rose from his seat to try his luck at slinking by the two, who had begun a rather one-sided argument over whose fault it was neither had bothered to install better safeguards into the doctor’s circuitry. Though, to be honest, it wasn’t much of an argument when Lawrence was simply listening with barely feigned interest. Ratchet almost succeeded in his escape, too, until Nefarious caught him in the act of sidling past him into the hallway.

“And where do you think _you’re_ going?” the doctor asked, followed by a rather wet sniff, an act that wasn’t complete until he rubbed his nose with a gloved hand.

“It sounds like you might’ve been right about this person’s intentions, after all. In that case, I think Clank had better hear this.”


	6. Someone Forgot to Pay the Electricity Bill

Even after getting his wish granted upon Clank’s agreement to assist him in learning the identity and motives of his mystery attacker, Dr. Nefarious wasn’t exactly cooperative. So in short, it went exactly as Ratchet expected.

“Dr. Nefarious, would you please focus on the question?” Clank asked as he attempted to continue an interrogation that had managed to swerve off track several times in the twenty short minutes it had thus far taken place, thanks to a great deal of squirming and fidgeting on the scientist’s part that was akin to watching a child who had just devoured an entire cake and was forced to sit in school on the last day before summer, a display which was in turn interrupted by a brief interlude in which the doctor fell into a rant over how moronic rain was. “What exactly did those files contain? Surely this person wanted something specific from you. Was there a particular invention of yours they appeared to be after?”

“We’ve already been over this!” the scientist said, which seemed to be his typical contribution to the current discussion, whether or not it was actually true, and he squirmed further still as he tried to get comfortable in the lumpy armchair he had booted Ratchet from. In fact, everyone, save Lawrence, who remained standing nearby with his hands folded over his stomach, had been banished to the sofa, after which they had proceeded to crowd to the side less dripped upon.

Clank, as “head detective”, the title awarded to him by Ophelia, sat in the middle of the trio, while she had perched herself on the armrest to his right. The doctor’s wish that she go outside and get struck by lightning appeared to not have caught her fancy and only spurred her to query why such a fate had yet to befall him when he bore a striking, pun intended, resemblance to a lightning rod. Ratchet had the most unfortunate spot on Clank’s left, where he got to practice fine-tuning his reaction time by flinching every time a water droplet fell past his ear. He directed a glare at Ophelia and the lack of moisture on her side of the couch.

“They seemed to be after _everything_ ,” Nefarious continued when it seemed he had decided, at least for the time being, that comfort was beyond him at the moment, “from my inventions to my memories. Plus, I’ve come up with so many ingenious ideas, it’s impossible to know which one they’re looking for.” He squirmed a little more before settling with crossing one leg over the other, a posture that surely wouldn’t last, as he had already tried that earlier, with little lasting success. “ _And_ it doesn’t help that _someone_ damaged the files!” He shot a sour glance in Ophelia’s direction. “What were you doing in my office anyway?”

“I was looking for more of your _charming_ company, what else?” she said, before fanning one hand in front of an exaggerated yawn, while Ratchet could’ve sworn he caught a growl escape the Kerwanoid. Or a wolverine had snuck in and taken up hiding beneath the doctor’s armchair.

Clank shook his head. “If we could focus, please, this could be important. You came to _us_ for assistance in tracking this person down, and we are only trying to find out more about them. If you do not know what they wanted from you, perhaps you at least have an idea of how they managed to enter your space station without your knowledge.”

“How does _that_ help us?” the doctor asked.

“It may not, but I do not want to miss anything that might be useful. So please tell us whatever you remember, and do not leave out any detail, no matter how unimportant it may seem.”

“Oh, I know a few. Lawrence had left the thermostat two degrees colder than I like it, _and_ he forgot to record the next episode of ‘Lance and Janice’. Is _that_ unimportant enough for you?” He paused, blinking at them before he finished with, “Not that I actually watch that nonsense, of course.”

“Allow me to specify…” Clank began, trailing off when Ratchet leaned in closer to him.

“I think he’s finally learned how sarcasm works.”

“I heard that!”

The little robot gave his friend a stern look before turning back to Nefarious. “As I was saying, did you happen to notice anything suspicious before he showed up in your office?”

“Nothing.”

“Absolutely nothing?” Clank repeated.

The scientist shook his head. “Nope.”

“Dr. Nefarious,” the diminutive robot attempted once again with an admirable resolve, “please tell us what _happened_. And do not worry about what any of us might think. I assure you, we will not pass any judgment.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ratchet said with a snort, only to receive a glare in response.

“Why should I worry about what _you_ morons think?” Dr. Nefarious asked with tightly crossed arms, though he hesitated with his next words, and he let out a heavy breath before he began. “I…I don’t _remember_ much of what happened. They must have come from the ventilation system because I never heard the door open. Next thing I know, I wake up as a squishy, only to get hit in the head with something, and that’s all.” He slouched in the armchair, as if he hoped his thin frame could disappear into it. “So quit asking.”

“This person was pretty stealthy, huh?” Ophelia said.

“Well, what about you, Lawrence?” Clank turned next to the squat butler.

“Oh, goody, it looks like it’s my turn,” Lawrence said with a lack of enthusiasm that contradicted his words, his half-lidded optics turning back to them after having been staring off into some far away place no one but him could see. Ratchet’s guess was he was fantasizing about dusting. (Clank himself had admitted to daydreaming about housecleaning once….) “As I had mentioned in the past, I noticed a ship docked in the east maintenance bay, a location I had brought up on more than one occasion as being lax in security, not that this was proof that I actually knew what I was talking about, of course.”

“Don’t start with me, Lawrence.”

“As I was saying, when I went to investigate, I caught sight of a tall figure, a man, as far as I could tell, though they were covered in too much clothing and armor to get any good look at them, retreating into the ship. With few options available to me, I grabbed onto the rear stabilizers before the ship took off—”

“I thought you said you snuck on,” Ratchet said.

Lawrence’s attention moved to settle on the Lombax, and he managed to stare down his nose at him, despite the fact that he scarcely had a nose to speak of. “Forgive me if I was a bit reluctant to admit to…clinging to a ship like an insect. Anyway, if you would all so kindly refrain from interrupting me—”

“Just get on with it already, Lawrence!”

“-I could actually complete my story, thank you very much.” The butler sighed. “Long story short, the ship activated a barrier about itself before setting off the EMP. Fortunately, I was safe within said barrier, but I watched as the space station went dark and every ship in the fleet was disabled. The ship then left for some unknown destination and landed several days later on an uncharted and heavily wooded planet to avoid the galactic authorities that were roaming the sector. As they were away one afternoon, I snuck on board, and we, though I use the term ‘we’ rather loosely—”

“Hurry up, Lawrence!”

“-we, oh, who am I fooling, _I_ took control of the ship and left them behind. On our way to Magmos, we ran low on fuel and crashed on this planet, the end,” the robot finished. “I could have told a better story if it had been allowed, you know.”

Ratchet opened his mouth, but was silenced when Ophelia spoke over him. “Magmos? Why Magmos?”

“I used to have a laboratory on Magmos, the very one where I became a robot. We would be safe from the authorities there because it’s remote, not to mention so blasted hot.” Dr. Nefarious shot a poisonous glare in Lawrence’s direction. “Which was why that was supposed to be kept _secret_ , Lawrence!”

“Apologies, sir,” the butler said, the response seemingly mere reflex, however, than anything else.

His earlier question forgotten, Ratchet settled for another, “So, you were on this ship with this person for several days. Did they ever speak? Could you ever get a better look at them?”

Dr. Nefarious’ answer was delayed by a series of sneezes, followed by some unpleasant sniffling and nose wiping. And yet, after this grand display of minor, but surely contagious, disease, his answer was a simple, “No.”

“No? Why—”

“Because he had been bound and blindfolded.”

“Don’t tell them that, Lawrence! It’s none of their business!”

“Look on the bright side, sir,” Lawrence continued, “possible concussion or no, I really doubt it will make any noticeable difference in the end.”

Ophelia couldn’t prevent the escape of a single snort of laughter, but any amusement she felt, or lack thereof on Nefarious’ part, was abandoned when the room went dark, and all Ratchet could see were the disembodied optics of the two robots.

“The power’s out again, Lawrence! Fix it!” came the supervillain’s voice out of the darkness, somehow twice as irritating in the blackness, though this could be attributed to the fact that it had also risen to a curious pitch.

“Oh, dear. Does this happen very often?” came Clank’s voice at Ratchet’s side.

“You know what we need?” Ophelia said, “Candles. A bunch of those tall, thin ones that make people think you’re into dark arts.”

“Did you know they recently came out with a summer breeze-scented candle?” Lawrence asked. “There is a variation that includes a touch of lilac. It’s absolutely refreshing.”

“Ooh, I did _not_ know that. Where do you buy them from?”

“Lawrence, I can’t see a thing! What’s taking you so long?”

While everyone else continued their own, more often than not, one-sided, conversations, the Lombax remained silent, for his mind had latched onto a particular barricaded door and a certain mystery creature behind it, followed by the unsettling thought of it creeping about in the dark while they sat here defenseless and unsuspecting.

But, to his great relief, not long later, but not before Nefarious had spouted more of his incensed shrieking and Lawrence had informed Ophelia of a candle that was supposed to smell like “contentment incarnate”, after which she asked for a paper and pencil so she wouldn’t miss a word, the lights returned with a flicker, and Ratchet blinked as his eyes adjusted to the renewed brightness of the room. And any concerns he had felt over some unknown horror dragging itself unseen down the black hallways was temporarily forgotten when he found that Nefarious had crawled into his armchair, looking as if he had just seen a ghost, a mouse, or possibly the apparition of a mouse.

“Afraid of the dark, Nefarious?” Ratchet asked with a snigger, while in the kitchen, Lawrence turned on a flashlight.

“Oh, dear, I suppose I was a bit too slow,” the butler said.

With no shortage of grumbling, the scientist extricated himself from his seat and attempted to stand tall, though no matter what height he might’ve been, it would never make Ratchet forget what he had just witnessed. “I’ve had quite enough of you twits for one evening,” he said, though with a bit less force than usual. “Lawrence, let’s go back to my office!”

“Hold on a second, sir,” the butler said and directed his next question to Ophelia. “I was just thinking, is there any chance you’d be interested in my recipe for tourtiere?”

She snorted. “ _Would_ I?”

“Wonderful.” Lawrence turned back to his employer. “Do you have a pen, sir?”

Dr. Nefarious stared at him, his death gaze only leaving the robot when he failed to withhold a sneeze. “I’m going to _dismantle_ you, Lawrence, if you don’t do as you’re told,” he said, stomping one foot for emphasis. “Do you want that?”

Lawrence put a hand to his chin. “One moment, sir, as I think it over.”

With a snarl, the scientist marched on by, only to grow stiff when the lights flickered again.

“On second thought,” the robotic butler began, “perhaps I should check the generators.”

* * *

After forcing what little information they could get out of Dr. Nefarious and his robotic butler, that left them all to a great deal of thinking and pondering and the like over what this told them about their mystery suspect. This person had clearly been planning this for quite some time, Ratchets stated, if they were able to pull off a feat as impressive as this with such ease, and, considering their apparent skill in getting into secure locations undetected, they might be responsible for similar incidents, as well. Ophelia’s contribution to the discussion, on the other hand, was a sketch of the wrongdoer “based on Nefarious’ description”, of which Ratchet never recalled either Nefarious or Lawrence stating it was a Lombax. Nor could it have escaped his notice if the attacker had been, in fact, _him_ all along. And then again, the Lombax argued, maybe Lawrence had fabricated the details of his story, and _he_ was actually the one who had attacked the scientist after many years of mistreatment. Ophelia agreed wholeheartedly with this.

They arrived at one ridiculous conclusion after another, the culprits ranging from Zoni bent on revenge to Nefarious himself, before they realized the only one suitable for contemplation of such magnitude would surely be Clank, and they left it to him. Normally Ratchet would feel some degree of guilt over dumping such a task on his friend, but after their serious discussion had unwittingly turned into a game of who could come up with the most farfetched suspects, the little robot was quick to concur that it should be left to him and him alone. Which was fine by them, as Ratchet had a much-needed meal beckoning to him now that Ophelia’s secret stash was no longer off limits, while she was still owed that tourtiere recipe. Which sounded pretty good right about now, and it didn’t matter that the Lombax had no idea what such a thing even was to begin with, nor did he have a clue how to spell it.

As the days went by, they went about their own, various tasks, Ratchet tackling the repairs of the ship, Clank dedicating his time to intellectual endeavors, and Ophelia, as before, doing whatever the heck it was _she_ was up to. The Lombax found his previous aching stomach to be greatly diminished now that he had far better things to eat, though these snacks remained in Ophelia’s room, as neither were willing to reveal their secret and risk being coerced into sharing with Nefarious. Sure, the guy was looking pretty thin these days, but he was always pretty scrawny, right?

And yet, no matter how much time passed, the rain never once let up, and Ratchet found himself starting with every flicker of the lights or flash of lightning the more he listened to Clank describe the various creatures the researchers had studied. Apparently the team had been drawn to this planet due to its diverse plant life, thinking it their best chance at finding plants that might survive on planets where crops were difficult to cultivate.

What they had found instead was the disturbing revelation that the reason this planet was woefully lacking in fauna was thanks to a storm that had begun centuries ago and which hadn’t stopped since. Well, to be honest, _that_ was not the disturbing part. What Ratchet found to be the most unsettling of all was the team’s finding that it wasn’t the storm that had killed off this planet’s less chlorophyll-dependent life, but the fact that the abundant and resilient plants that had resulted from such torrential rain had _eaten_ the animals when they had grown too large to sustain themselves on the nutrients from soil alone. The toads, it appeared, were the last survivors, and based on what an ordeal it was attempting to snack on one, the Lombax thought he knew why.

And when he wasn’t working on the ship, listening to Clank’s strangely terrifying tales of science, or eating, Ratchet would check on the state of the greenhouse door, or simply ask Lawrence as to whether or not it was still intact when he couldn’t bear to venture into those cold, dark labs that were always too silent, even if the feeling of being watched was never entirely absent. Something was in there, something horrible and unnatural that was never meant to exist, whether it was a creation of the storm or an abomination of the lab not changing the nightmares it brought him once sleep had finally eclipsed his mind. All that mattered was that this creature, this _monster_ , was surely responsible for the fact that nothing remained of the research team. No bones, no scraps of clothing, no nothing.

Now, if Ratchet had _really_ wanted to see what lay within the greenhouse, he could have followed Ophelia’s suggestion to try inspecting the place from the outside, considering it _was_ an entire room made of glass, after all. And yet, seeing as this plan had a greater chance at success, that was the very reason he _didn’t_ attempt such a thing and the reason Clank failed to mention it even when he had thought of that same idea some time ago.

Needless to say, it was always a relief to talk about other things, such as any subject that didn’t involve the method in which they were eventually going to die, and they spent a good deal of their time sitting at or on the desks sorted in a neat grid about Clank as the little robot continued to pour over the endless research logs out of, what Ratchet believed, was a truly morbid curiosity, even if his friend argued that he did it for the mere pursuit of knowledge. In all honesty, the labs were the last place Ratchet wanted to be, but seeing as it really didn’t seem right to leave the robot to himself _all_ of the time, they decided with great reluctance and a strong conviction that this was proof he was a great friend indeed, in the Lombax’s case, that this would be the spot where they would congregate whenever they had nothing better to do, while they tried to ease their anxieties by discussing topics that didn’t involve power outages that would leave them in impenetrable darkness or trees with a taste for flesh.

Most of their discussions, in fact, revolved around the many adventures the Lombax and robot pair had embarked upon over the years, but after he had expended hours each day reminiscing to the point that he forgot he even was talking _to_ anyone, he would again be reminded of the fact that Ophelia said scarcely little about herself, and on one lazy evening, when he cared not to mull over any more adventures other people, namely Captain Qwark, had gotten the credit for, he decided it was time to put an end to her silence.

Ratchet took a break from a banana he had been busy munching on and looked over at Ophelia, who had taken up laying on her back on a desk whose contents she had cleared away. “Hey, Ophelia,” he began, putting a great deal of thought into his next words, until he merely came out with, “what exactly is it that you do?” It was a rather uninspired question, he had to admit, but it was all he could think of. He really didn’t have much to go on, considering how little he actually knew of her.

“Hmm.” She glanced over, half of her face covered by her frizzy puff of hair, and he was only able to catch one eye blinking as she adjusted to the idea that she actually had need to answer for once. “Oh, well, this and that. I’ve just been…kind of wandering. Why?”

He shrugged. “I was…just curious.” That didn’t really get him anywhere. He took another bite of his banana and tried again. “Once we’re off this planet, where are you gonna go?” And please don’t say you’re sticking with us.

It seemed his vague question had done more than he had expected, for her face cracked into a large grin that didn’t make a whole lot of sense for such a query. “Oh, I have so many places to go. I’m searching for something, you see.” She rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. “I have been looking for something my whole life. You wanna know what that is?”

“That’s kind of why I asked…”

“I want to find…I want to find a place where people can be happy. Where no one goes hungry or…or hurts one another. A place where people can live in peace.” She laced her fingers together and proceeded to fidget with them, running one thumb up and down the other. “The universe is such a mess, but there must be _somewhere_ that’s better.”

“Yeah, I don’t know….” Ratchet stared down at the surface of the desk, furrowing his eyebrows at the thought of such an impossible task. “You remember all those planets I told you about, well, they never managed to find what you’re looking for. Even the peaceful planets have their fair share of trouble.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure there has to be _somewhere_ that comes close.” She laughed. “The universe is a big place, you know?”

“I have been thinking…”

They both looked over at the small robot, who was currently sitting at a computer with a stack of thick textbooks piled beneath him to better reach the keyboard, these words being the first he had spoken for a good hour. Clank turned to look back at them before continuing, “The person who attacked Dr. Nefarious and attempted to steal his ideas, what do you think they intended to accomplish by kidnapping him?”

“How should I know?” Ratchet asked with a shrug. “But, knowing you, I’m sure _you_ have some ideas, so what are they?”

“Well, you see, if this person planned to steal his inventions, I can only conclude that he is not terribly adept in the area on his own, which leads me to believe that he also needed Dr. Nefarious to build these devices for him, as well. And if _that_ is the case, where did he get that EMP? It was of an immensely powerful variety, and he does not seem particularly capable of building such a device himself. Considering that his ship was stolen, perhaps the other technology he came to possess was obtained by less than legal means, as well.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s possible. But, how does that help us?”

“It might not, but if we can track down where this technology originally came from, maybe that might help us learn this person’s identity.”

“Well,” Ratchet chewed a mouthful of banana slowly as he thought this over, “I’m not sure how easy that will be, but it’s the best idea we’ve come up with so far.”

“It doesn’t really help us as long as we’re here, though,” Ophelia said and yawned.

“We’ve gotta escape eventually.”

“But, _how_? And once we do, what of Nefarious and Lawrence?”

The Lombax threw his arms up in the air in utter exasperation. “Would you stop bringing that up? I’m just focusing on repairing Aphelion and getting out of here.”

“What _are_ we going to do about them, Ratchet?” the little robot asked, his optics tilting in concern. “The more I think about it, the less it seems right to leave them here to the same fate as the research team.”

“Yeah, but,” Ratchet plopped the nearly finished banana down on the desk to better free up his hands for some intense gesturing, “do you remember _who_ we’re talking about here?”

Clank frowned. “That does not make any difference.”

“Well, I don’t see any other options—”

“I agree,” Ophelia said with a sagely nod. “With Clank, I mean.” She rolled off the desk and strode over to Ratchet, who merely watched her approach with his mouth pressed into a tight line. “Are you really that callous, Mr. Lombax?” She planted her hands on her hips and looked down her nose at him.

“Why do _I_ keep being made out to be the bad guy?” He eluded her as she attempted to pat him on the head, and when these efforts met with no success, she gave this up to simply sit on his desk.

Without bothering to respond with anything more than an amused grin, Ophelia swiped his banana away and got to work devouring what was left. “Anyway…” Just like that, she grew stiff, the amusement vanishing from her face, and Ratchet looked back to ensure that nothing ravenous was in the middle of sneaking up on them. When nothing could be found, his gaze shot back to her.

“Huh? What is it?”

“Oh, nothing.” She shook her head. “Er, I mean…I-I was just thinking, if they locked that thing up in the greenhouse, what got the remaining people _after_ it was locked up?”

Her question was met with silence, and then Ratchet was out of his seat and heading for the living quarters, Clank following closely behind.

“I think we’ve gotten all we can from those logs, don’t you, Clank?”

“Yes, I believe we have.”

“You don’t wanna find out?” Ophelia called after them.

“No, but _you’re_ welcome to stay behind and find out for yourself.”

She shoved what was left of the banana into her mouth and tossed the peel over her shoulder, answering with a muffled, “I’ll pass.”


	7. Cloudy with a Chance of Clouds

Ratchet couldn’t say how much time had passed since their arrival on this dismally damp planet, be it mere weeks or a period ranging closer to a month, for only Clank and Lawrence appeared to be keeping track, and he cared little to ask. All that really mattered right now, ever since starvation had stopped being a concern, was Aphelion’s repairs, a task he could happily say was very near completion. And as he worked one thoroughly wet afternoon, crouched beneath Aphelion’s right wing as he tightened a bolt with his wrench after replacing a panel he had removed for maintenance, something came to his attention that he hadn’t experienced since the moment they arrived.

Silence.

His ears pricked up, and he leaned out from beneath the wing of the ship and the tarp pinned about it to stare up at a sky devoid of rain for the first time in all his long weeks here. He blinked. Unless he was mistaken, it almost seemed as if the rain had actually… _reversed_ direction in order to rejoin the clouds before ever reaching the ground. He shook his head. Nonsense, that simply wasn’t…

And yet, he stayed as quiet and still as this sudden lull he had found himself caught in the middle of, a calm that set his stomach on edge, and he took notice of a tingling in his body as his fur stood up on end, and his limbs tensed as he gazed up at clouds that had never before looked as dark as they did now, an eerie blackness that was only illuminated in patches of dull grey whenever the lightning sparked above.

He listened to the thunder’s muted rumbling, staring at the clouds that almost seemed to be drifting lower, and he began to run with little understanding of why he was doing it, but once he reached the facility, there was no need to tell anyone the news, for Clank and Ophelia were already outside, as well, the little robot remaining by the doorway, as if expecting some unwanted surprise.

“Those clouds don’t look pleased,” Ophelia said as Ratchet slowed to a walk nearby, shielding her eyes in an absent manner when there was no sunlight to shield them from. “How’s the ship?”

“Almost done. We still can’t go anywhere with the clouds like _that_ , though.” The Lombax gestured to the sky with one thumb thrust over his shoulder as his robotic friend stepped aside at his approach.

“Maybe now the storm will clear up?”

Ratchet merely shrugged and directed a perplexed frown back in her direction as she turned to follow.

“Have you ever seen clouds that dark before?” Ophelia continued, nearly knocking the Lombax over as she squeezed by him on her way inside. “Oh, hey, how much longer before the ship’s done, do you think?”

“I dunno, maybe a few days,” Ratchet said with a shrug. “But, like I said—”

“ _I_ know!” She spun with a hop to face him again, the sudden movement causing all of her many trinkets to jiggle and clink together. “We should have a feast to celebrate! Well, it won’t really be much of a feast, but we have to do _something_. The rain’s gone, the ship’s almost fixed. I even caught another chicken a few days ago!”

“Are you sure that is sanitary?” Clank asked. “I do not recall you practicing safe food-handling techniques.”

She waved one hand at him. “Pshaw, it’ll be fine. I’m going to get ready. Sound good, Mr. Lombax?”

“I don’t think my answer will matter either—”

“Good.” And just like that, she was off in the direction of her room, clinking all the way, while Ratchet merely watched her departure with a frown and a raised eyebrow.

He opened his mouth, only to close it again when it occurred to him that nothing needed to be said. When he turned back to his friend, he caught the diminutive robot peering out the front door again, and Ratchet stepped closer to get another look at the churning clouds above.

“There is something wrong about those clouds,” Clank said, and though the Lombax might have suspected it, hearing those very things uttered by the robot only succeeded in making his stomach sink further. He really didn’t think he had the appetite for Ophelia’s feast, potential threat of ebola or no.

“What do you think’s going on?”

The robot shook his head, his only response to ask, “You believe Aphelion will be in working order soon?”

“Yeah, but there’s still that lightning to worry about.” He turned to head back further inside, where the sight of the foreboding clouds were lost to him, even if the thunder wasn’t.

He heard the door close behind him as Clank spoke, “Perhaps we should ask Dr. Nefarious for help on this matter? He might have some ideas.”

Ratchet dropped into his usual armchair, the cushion of which was getting flatter each time he sat on it. “I’m tired of asking Nefarious for help. And the more I expect _his_ help, the more he’s going to expect _ours_.”

“Have you decided yet what you are going to do about them? Dr. Nefarious and Lawrence, I mean.”

“Decided? I’ve _already_ decided! They’re not coming with us! End of story!” Ratchet crossed his arms, a sure sign of a mind that’s been made up, before he turned back to his friend with a curious gaze. “But, what do you mean by…what am _I_ going to do about them?”

Clank pulled himself up into the seat nearby, but even then, he took to addressing his own feet as he said, “You seem quite adamant about leaving them here. I just wanted to see if you had changed your mind now that I fear the situation has become more dangerous.”

Ratchet frowned, but no amount of staring could make his friend look over, and he sighed. “Look, Clank, if you feel that strongly about helping them…” he looked away, “I-I didn’t mean to say that we had to handle this _my_ way and my way only, but you have to know that this is the best decision.” He directed a sidelong glance back in the robot’s direction. “Right?”

Clank’s head only hung lower. “That might…not be for me to decide.”

“Huh?”

“I cannot always decide for you what is right and wrong. You must do that on your own.” His friend turned to him at last, and Ratchet winced at the strangely solemn look in his green optics. “But, think for a moment, would you really be fine with leaving Dr. Nefarious and Lawrence to the same fate as the research team?”

“Actually, the _real_ question is, would I be fine with helping them, considering the alternative? Don’t tell me the universe wouldn’t be a better place without them.”

Clank turned away. “That is why it is your decision to make.”

“But, _why_? You didn’t explain that to me the first time. Why would it be _my_ decision?”

The robot returned his attention to him, and this time he didn’t look away. “Ratchet, I have a question. And I want you to answer me honestly.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I was created in a robot factory. Does that make me…artificial?”

“Wh-what would make you think that?”

“I am made of metal, and I am comprised of circuits and gears. My thought processes come from my sisterboard and my CPU. I may very well be little more than an advanced computer.”

Ratchet was silent at first at this unexpected query, until it hit him. “Ophelia said something, didn’t she?” He leaned over the armrest with an intensity to match his words. “Don’t listen to a word she says! She doesn’t know what she’s talking about!”

“But, Ratchet—”

“No, you are-you are _not_ a computer or just a piece of walking metal. You are my best friend, and I’d have to be a pretty big loser to have an-an _object_ as my best friend, wouldn’t I?” His voice softened when Clank’s expression failed to change. “Clank, you had a father, remember? Orvus created you, and even if you _did_ come from a factory, that’s not the part that matters. What matters is you have people that care about you. People don’t care about machines.”

Clank’s eyelids lowered further. “I suppose so.”

“No, don’t _suppose_. It’s true. Believe it. All right?”

“Yes, Ratchet.”

The Lombax settled back in his seat and sighed when Clank’s attention slipped away once again. “Clank…”

“Ratchet, I would like some time to think…if you would not mind.”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

Ratchet stood and headed towards the hallway, pausing halfway there to add, “I mean it, you don’t need to take anything she says seriously. Don’t let her change how you feel about yourself.”

“Thank you, Ratchet.”

Ratchet’s feet took him down a series of hallways until he arrived at the door to Dr. Nefarious’ office, and though he was sure it wouldn’t be long before his opinion changed, he thought the scientist seemed marginally more tolerable than a certain someone right now, and with a growing desperation to leave this planet far behind, he was more and more willing to seek drastic measures.

Nevertheless, his arm didn’t want to lift from his side, though once it did, he had little trouble forming his hand into a fist, even if he would have liked to use it for a different purpose, and he knocked on the door while his mind scrambled for some excuse for being here that the supervillain wouldn’t mistake for groveling.

“Do you need something?”

Ratchet yelped at a voice from nearby, and his head jerked around to face Lawrence, the always stoic butler barely illuminated in the dimly lit hallways. “Stop sneaking up on me like that!”

“Excuse me if I’ve been apparently awaiting your arrival from the shadows so that I could, as you put it, ‘sneak up’ on you. If you’re looking for my employer, he’s currently out at the moment, but you’re welcome to leave a message. I promise I’ll try moderately hard to remember it.”

“Well, where _is_ he?”

“How should _I_ know? He just…wandered off again.” He mimicked the motion of walking legs with two fingers. “I’ll probably go looking for him in a few hours. You know, to ensure he’s still alive.” The butler looked ready to yawn. “He _probably_ is.”

“Well, never mind, then.”

“Have a nice day.”

Ratchet got to searching the labs beyond the living quarters when the doctor couldn’t be found in the immediate vicinity of his office, and he regretted neglecting to bring his wrench when something that sounded moist shuffled past a half-open doorway. His pace picked up, and it wasn’t until he had reached the barricaded greenhouse doors and had decided that it was high time he turned back that he found what he was looking for. Or more accurately, _he_ was found by the one he was looking for.

“Don’t come any closer,” a familiar voice said, “or I’ll annihilate you!”

While instinct, not to mention nerves that had constantly been on edge ever since the first time a bush had lunged for him, caused Ratchet to freeze at the sound, he had to admit to a surprising amount of comfort the grating voice of the scientist brought. At least the grouchy Kerwanoid had no intention of eating him. Though, the supervillain _had_ looked pretty hungry the last time he had seen him….

With a new potential danger lodged in his mind with no way of getting it free until he had confirmed his nemesis wasn’t currently in possession of a fork and knife, his head zipped this way and that, but he caught sight of nothing more than the tendrils of plant life that had ventured inside and toppled and decaying furniture.

“It’s-it’s just me! Ratchet!” the Lombax began. “Where-where are you?”

He caught in the gloom Dr. Nefarious emerge from behind an old desk in the corner, blaster still held at the ready for the promised annihilation. “What do you want, squishy?”

“Would you stop aiming guns at me! Look,” Ratchet patted at himself, “I’m not armed!”

“What do you _want_?” the scientist repeated, a wild glint in his eyes that the Lombax knew all too well. The look of paranoia. While he stood here, distracted by one potential threat to his wellbeing, a severed and mutated thistle could be inching its way towards him right now, like some kind of grotesque worm, preparing itself to latch around his ankle….

“J-just put it down, all right?” The Lombax attempted to sidle out of the way of the blaster, only to be followed by it. “And…were you…hiding just now?”

“Who’s the one with a gun aimed at them?”

“Never mind! I-I just came here to ask you something. That’s all. It’s certainly nothing I need to be shot over.”

Dr. Nefarious dropped his blaster back down to his side and considered him with half-hidden eyes, though it did little to hide the obvious malice they held, and the doctor said in a low growl, “I’ll be the judge of that….”

“You wanted us here to help you off this planet,” Ratchet began, and he eased himself down onto a table across from the scientist, “but…I need your help, too. The ship’s…the ship’s almost done, but we can’t go anywhere with those storm clouds, and just today—”

“Yeah, I saw them.” Nefarious turned on his heel and began to pace by, though with nowhere in particular to go, save for having restless feet, and he continued, “And I certainly haven’t been sitting around doing nothing this whole time like you seem to believe.”

“I don’t remember saying that, but okay.”

He paced by in the other direction. “I have, in fact, been working on a device to attract the lightning.”

Ratchet frowned. “And…we want that?”

The supervillain halted mid-stride to round on what he surely believed to be an absurd question. “Yes, of course we do, you twit!” He gestured overhead with a sweep of one arm. “It will attract the lightning to it, allowing us to escape unharmed.”

The Lombax blinked as he awaited further explanation, but none came. “Uh-huh. And…is there any way we can…I don’t know… _test_ thi—”

“It’ll work. You’ll see.” The scientist turned and strode away before dropping into a seat that had been left sideways at its assigned desk and draped his arm over the back. “So, are we through here?”

“Uh, well…” Ratchet scratched his hear, and he tensed when thunder rumbled low overhead, a deep grumbling that rattled his very bones, and even the supervillain looked up and studied the ceiling, as if inspecting its integrity. “Uh, what are you doing here anyway? In the dark, I mean. This isn’t really the safest place to be spending time alone.”

When it seemed the roof didn’t intend on collapsing any time soon, Nefarious’ gaze turned to staring at the corner across the room from him, and while Ratchet would normally assume the doctor’s eyelids were drooped nearly to the point of being closed due to simple lethargy, he thought he caught a strange solemn glumness not particularly characteristic of the supervillain.

“I was just checking on the generators,” the scientist said, his voice flat, and his tired gaze sharpened. “Why? Are you suddenly concerned for my wellbeing, Lombax?”

“Well, not exactly, but…” He trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip. Not that he had spent much time around the scientist, but this sudden quiet was not something he expected, nor something he had seen since one night on Magnus when he had woken up to find Nefarious sitting off by himself and staring out across the gently bobbing waters of Octonok Cay, looking strangely forlorn despite his distance from them being by his own choice. Of course, he had never questioned him on it, as the villain wasn’t exactly the approachable type, especially when that person had red eyes and a rotten demeanor.

“I just wondered,” Ratchet continued as he remembered the butler’s own motivation for showing up in such a dark and eerie spot, “if you were here because you wanted to get away from Lawrence…"

“He’s such a snotty, little twit sometimes,” Nefarious said, only to grow silent again, but it was enough to make the Lombax draw back.

“Yeah, well, I’m…I’m kind of surprised you two have stuck together for as long as you have,” Ratchet said, and he began to fidget when he fell under the scientist’s scrutiny.

Nefarious remained wordless, and when the Lombax couldn’t decipher the expression on his face, he turned away to study the tendrils of vines that had at one time burst through an air duct and had since crept across nearly the entire width of the ceiling.

“He’d be an idiot to go anywhere else,” the doctor said at last, though his voice continued to retain a curious lack of conviction, and Ratchet squirmed all the more on the hard surface he had chosen as a seat and readjusted the fingers he had wrapped around the edge of the table.

“Yeah, I guess, uh…look,” he pushed himself to his feet, “we were going to have…I don’t know, some kind of a dinner to celebrate the ship being nearly finished. Do you…you’re…you’re welcome to join us, if you want. And if you don’t aim any more weapons at me,” he added. Otherwise, he didn’t think he’d have much of an appetite. Not that he did _now_.

“‘We’?” the scientist repeated. “What other squishies _are_ there but me and you and-” Ratchet’s eyes narrowed as the scientist snorted with sudden laughter. “Oh, I see!”

“It’s-it’s not like that! And besides, it was _her_ idea, not mine!”

The scientist nearly fell out of his seat in his unrestrained mirth, and frankly, the Lombax didn’t think it was even _half_ as funny as the other seemed to believe.

“Naive squishy!” the scientist said between giggles, and Ratchet rolled his eyes.

“Why would I invite you if it was _that_ kind of dinner anyway?”

“Because…” his sniggering increased, and he slapped one knee, “because you’re stupid!”

“Just forget it.”

“Oh, I assure you, I won’t!”

With a snarl, the Lombax stomped by, only to be halted when the doctor spoke up behind him, his tone taking on a somewhat more controlled quality.

“By the way, Ratchet…”

He bit his lower lip. “What?”

“Won’t…” more chuckling, and then, “won’t Clank be jealous?”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“But, don’t you get it? Because—”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“-because you two seem to have a rather… _close_ relationship. And by close, I mean—”

“I get it!”

The Lombax ran out of the room before Nefarious could elaborate any further, and it only occurred to him after the scientist’s raucous laughter was finally out of range that the same could be said of the supervillain and his butler, but he decided this lapse was for the best, or else he might not still be alive right now to think about it.

* * *

Perhaps Nefarious had been right about one thing, which Ratchet knew wasn’t possible for someone as deranged as the supervillain, which could only mean he was not really seeing what he thought he was seeing.

With the gloom of the abandoned labs, it didn’t take much effort for his eyes to adjust when he arrived in the dimly lit kitchen to find the table adorned with a meager variety of food, though clearly arranged with what the one responsible surely thought of as care, all of which, the fruits, both sliced and whole, and a scrawny roast chicken likely past its expiration date (the only _other_ survivor when the plants took over, aside from the toads, it would seem, which only made him wonder just how vicious the chickens must be around here…and how she had managed to catch one), were lit by the candles Ophelia thought so highly of and set lovingly against a bouquet of limp flowers and fern fronds draped about the edges of one of the buckets Lawrence no longer needed to collect rainwater. And Clank was nowhere to be found.

Yes, just as the scientist had said, mental though he may be, it looked quite a bit like a date. But, then again, she was strangely open about her foot malady with Clank and Lawrence, and surely she wasn’t trying to start something with _them_.

He sure hoped not.

At least she had put no effort into fixing up her appearance, as her hair had gained the ability to defy gravity even more than ever, not unlike the embarrassing fluff his fur had taken on thanks to the intense humidity ever present in the air, and she still appeared to have pieces of junk she had fished from a trash bin tied to her clothing. Not that she had any other options of dress way out on an abandoned planet in a distant corner of the galaxy, but whatever made him feel better about the whole thing.

“Hey, so what do you think?” She opened her arms in one grand sweep to gesture at the attempted “feast” set out before her.

“Yeah. Nice. You know,” he rubbed his stomach, a distraction as his eyes searched for an escape route, “I’m not…really that hungry. I, uh, had a big lunch, and…”

“Sit.”

“O-okay.” He sat down in the seat across from her, wincing as it made a dull screech on the tile floor as he adjusted its distance from the table. The bouquet blocked his view of her, to his great relief, until a hand appeared and pushed it aside, and her grinning face was again revealed like some unsettling version of peek-a-boo.

“Sorry. I may have gone a bit overboard, but we may as well do something special to celebrate our imminent escape. Even if no one else is bothering to join us.”

“Well,” his eyes scanned the table, as much to decide what to try first as to avoid looking at her, “the other three are either robots are psychopaths, so I guess that would explain it.”

“I’m glad _we’re_ normal, at least.”

He picked up a few slices of banana with a fork that she had cut unnecessarily thin before grabbing a bowl of what looked rather similar to mashed potatoes, but likely wasn’t. “And,” he continued as he began to spoon the pale mush onto his plate, “I can’t guarantee leaving this place will be as easy as you think. Nefarious,” he glanced up to catch her gazing at him with her cheek propped up on one fist and her skin turned orange from the candlelight (perhaps the scientist was saner than he looked, after all; best not to think about it), “he…uh…what is this?”

“Tapioca. It was actually for dessert.”

“Ah.” He put the bowl down and pushed the gloppy mess to the side with his fork so as to quarantine it from the rest of his meal. “Well, as-as I was saying, Nefarious built something…” he stood to more easily carve off some of the chicken with a large knife that was far too much within arm’s reach of her than he would’ve liked, “I-I don’t really know what it does, actually.” He sat down and nibbled at some of his newly acquired salmonella (er, meat), as he continued, “Basically, he built something to help us off the planet, but I don’t really know if it’ll work or not.”

“I see. Well,” she grabbed a black fruit he recalled being like a rather oversized grape with fuzzy skin and shoved the whole thing in her mouth, though the dim lighting concealed her chewed food far less than he expected, “he’s _supposed_ to be a genius. I would think he’d know what he’s doing.”

“You’d be surprised how dumb geniuses can be.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I guess it’s good I’m not a genius, then.”

“Hmm.” Finally, something they could agree on.

Ratchet ventured another bite of chicken, a bigger one this time, and chewed slowly. It seemed okay. A bit overcooked, but that might kill off whatever diseases might have accumulated during its time sitting about unrefrigerated. (Though, honestly, directing some of their electricity to the fridge might’ve been a good idea. On second thought, he’d rather get food poisoning from his dinner than _become_ dinner to something that had decided to sneak up on him in the dark.) Reflex made him look back over his shoulder as Ophelia leaned forward to grab the chicken’s right leg, and he winced as she twisted it about until, with a crack, it came free from its former owner.

She got to munching on her chicken leg with the enthusiasm of a dog gnawing on a bone, and he turned to his own plate to decide what he’d like to gag over next. He stabbed a small, round piece of fruit with the end of his fork and held it up to eye level. “So, Ophelia…do you have any…family to speak of?”

She stopped chewing on her meat to stare at him, one stray chunk hanging from the corner of her mouth before it, too, disappeared into her hungry maw. “Everyone’s got a family, silly. Don’t you know that?”

“Well, I mean…what are they like? Don’t…don’t you want to go back to them once this is all done? Instead of, you know, wandering the galaxy for something that can’t be found?”

“It _can_ be found, and I _will_ find it. I haven’t…I haven’t visited my family in years, and I don’t intend to until the job’s done.” She pointed her chicken leg at him (frankly, he was surprised she had thought to cut the feet off, but was immensely grateful for it). “And all your negativity won’t stop me.”

“All right, fine. I was just asking.” He stuck the fruit in his mouth and promptly spit it back out again. If they actually had the lights on, he would’ve noticed it was covered in hairs!

Ratchet looked up to catch one corner of her lips pull up in a grin, and she shook her head. “What about _you_?” she began. “You’ve told me about all these grand adventures you’ve been on, like a gallant and furry knight, but you’ve never mentioned home.” She sat up straighter to address him in the most regal voice one dressed in trash could manage. “Where do you hail from, brave knight?”

The Lombax arched an eyebrow at her, and he nearly answered several times, but was kept from doing so whenever her attempt at a noble exterior was momentarily replaced by giggles she just barely had under control. “I’m from Veldin. It’s-it’s not where my family’s from, but it’s where I grew up. I…yeah, that’s about it.”

“Well, where’s your _family_?”

“I don’t know. Look, can we just talk about something else? My…” he gestured at his plate, “my food’s getting cold—”

“Most of it’s fruit. Do they eat warm fruit on Veldlin—”

“It’s _Veldin_ , and—”

“And _you’re_ the one who brought up the whole matter of families in the first place, so—”

“I know, and _now_ I’m the one saying we should drop it, okay?”

“Okay!”

Ratchet tried to still his breathing, and he took to poking at the uneaten fruit and chicken and tapioca on his plate with his fork, his measly appetite fizzling to a cinder. He glanced up just once more when Ophelia burst out with, “Fine!” but she could spur no further argument from him. At least, not like that.

“So, if Nefarious is going to help us off the planet, doesn’t that mean we should help _him_?”

The Lombax’s jaw grew tight, and his head rose to face her once more, and this time he had no trouble meeting her gaze. “How many times are you going to bring that up?”

“Until you give me the answer I want. And in case you’re not sure what that is, I’ll give you a hint. It starts with a Y. And it ends with an S. You can basically get away with making it a two-letter word, and it’ll still pretty much work—”

“Why do you _care_ so much?”

“Because, unlike _you_ , I don’t like the thought of just leaving someone behind to die…hey!”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Ratchet pushed his plate forward and rose from the table. “Nefarious is _evil_. The reason you need to search for peace, and the reason you’ll never find it, is because of people like him. He makes it his job to hurt other people, and I’m not going to help someone that’s caused so much misery for others. Is _any_ of this making sense to you?”

By now, Ophelia had grown stiff-backed in her seat, and she stared at him with wide eyes, no sign of her usual nonchalance. She opened her mouth once, then twice, and said, “Then, why did you never stop him?”

“I _did_ stop him. Plenty of times—”

“No.” She shook her head. “No, you didn’t. Why did you never _kill_ him?”

The temperature of the room seemed to drop with this question, to hear something he had faced numerous times in the past, in the secret hollow of his mind and in muted and solemn conversations with Clank, expressed so simply, so out in the open. He had tried. He had tried and succeeded in stopping the supervillain many times in the past, and if it had been a battle to the death, well, better Nefarious than himself. Or Clank. But, when you were in the middle of such a struggle…

Once the battle had ended and the adrenaline of the moment was over, he didn’t like to admit that he had just tried to _kill_ someone.

Her voice lowered to almost a whisper, “Why don’t you do it _now_?”

Ratchet’s jaw finally started working again, and he choked out a strangled, “ _What_?”

Ophelia pressed her lips together. “Why don’t you? The universe isn’t safe from people like him until they’re no longer alive to harm anyone else. Even prison’s not enough. People _escape_ from prison.”

“Well, I-ah” Ratchet blinked at her, “… _now_?”

She gave a half shrug, half wobble of her head. “Well…” Her brow furrowed at the look of stunned horror on the Lombax’s face. “Oh, don’t look at me like I’m horrible. _He’s_ horrible, so what’s it matter what you do to horrible people?”

“It…I don’t know.” He ran a hand over his head. “I-I don’t think I can just—”

Ophelia narrowed her eyes. “When you told me about your many adventures, the most important part was all the people you helped, which was only possible because of all the bad people you _stopped_. But, what’s the point if it’s not permanent?”

“Don’t…don’t tell me how I should and shouldn’t help people! You don’t even know _half_ of what Clank and I have done for the galaxy, so I can do it however I darn well please! And if that includes not…stabbing Nefarious with this carving knife,” he reached forward and brandished the blade in question, “when he’s just as screwed as we are, then that’s my choice!”

She leaned back in her chair with crossed arms and rested her head on the backrest. “I doubt he’d show you the same courtesy,” she told the ceiling.

“Yeah, but I don’t plan on becoming like him.”

She sighed. “Ratchet, I worry about you.”

“Why should you worry about _me_? You hardly know me?”

“That same kindness could get you killed one day.”

“It’s not kindness. I just…try to do what’s right.”

Ophelia released a breath deep enough that he almost wondered if she had been storing it up throughout his entire outburst. “Just…eat your dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Me, neither.”

She said no more, and neither did he, and he uncurled the fingers he didn’t realize until now had been tightly gripping the carving knife, and the object fell to the floor with a metallic clatter.

A crash erupted from somewhere he couldn’t pinpoint, an eruption of noise that was so powerful that it felt like the very room itself shook, and he only suspected it didn’t when not one item so much as rocked on the tabletop.

“What was that?” Ratchet asked as he ran to the light switch.

“A lightning strike? It sounded like it hit the building!”

He flicked the switch this way and that, but the space remained as dark as ever. “It looks like the power’s out.”

“It came back last time,” she said as she wandered over to join him, and they both nearly jumped into the other’s arms when a third voice came from around the corner.

“Ratchet, is everyone all right?”

They both looked down as Clank appeared before them with his green optics clearly visible in the darkness, and clearly slanted in concern.

“I believe the facilities have been—”

“Yeah, I think we already figured that out. You think...” Ratchet glanced between them, a question he didn’t want to ask ready on his lips, “you think we should check it out?”

“The lightning might have started a fire,” the little robot said, and Ophelia dashed back to the table to grab the carving knife from the floor.

“I don’t think a knife’s going to do much good against a fire,” the Lombax said, and he couldn’t help but flinch to see her armed again. If he struck her with his wrench fast enough…

She licked off a piece of chicken still clinging to the blade. “If we’re going into the labs, I want to be prepared for whatever might have gotten stirred up. You ready?”


	8. Eat Your Vegetables Before They Eat You

Armed with a knife, a wrench, and, in Clank’s case, a flashlight, useful for both illuminating the way ahead better than the candles the other two were brandishing and for bludgeoning anything that needed it, they made their way into the cold, dark labs, and as eerie as Ratchet had always believed the sound of rain to be, the silence was worse. And though Clank did a fine job of directing the flashlight where they needed it most, he was always too slow to catch the source of the slithering and the rustling of things that seemed to much prefer the darkness.

Despite an increasingly tight grip on their weapons, however, they travelled without incident deep into the facility, and after a good length of time spent flinching at every perceived noise, real or otherwise, Ratchet caught something in the meandering ray of Clank’s flashlight before it passed on to other things. The little robot must have noticed it, as well, for the light backtracked to reveal a blackened tree branch coming down through the ceiling. Its identity confirmed, Clank traced its length until the beam of light landed on the splintered doors of the greenhouse and the gaping hole in the ceiling the downed and withered tree had created. Ratchet’s heart sank, his attention so focused on an image that didn’t change no matter how many times he blinked, that he barely even saw the orb of another flashlight that rested nearby until the silence was broken.

“That’s right, take a good long look,” came a harsh, but familiar voice, and their eyes darted over to the source of the second light.

The speaker, as expected, was a rather aggravated-looking Dr. Nefarious, who bore a blaster in his free hand. He turned a narrowed gaze on them, as if one of _them_ had somehow catapulted into the roof and caused the damage. “If you twits hadn’t taken so long to repair the ship, we’d be out of here by now! Now the generators are damaged, and I don’t have the parts to repair them!”

“If you hadn’t gotten yourself kidnapped—” Ratchet began.

“I wasn’t kidnapped, I was merely taken somewhere against my will!”

“-and crashed on this planet, none of us would even be here to begin with!”

“That’s Lawrence’s fault, not mine!”

“Where _is_ Lawrence?” Clank asked, but his gaze was directed not at the scientist, but towards the dark recesses beyond the shattered greenhouse doors.

“Who _cares_ about _that_ idiot? Just look at this!” Nefarious thrust out his left arm, a few puncture marks in his long glove and a murky orange sap-like residue covering his entire forearm. “A fern _bit_ me, the twit! Doesn’t it know who I _am_?”

“I really doubt that it would,” the little robot replied in all honesty. “But, _where_ is Lawrence?”

“I sent him to check out the greenhouse!” The supervillain jerked an arm at the room in question. “That moron’ll be fine!”

“I do not think it is wise for him to go in there alone,” Clank continued. “From what I understand, whatever the former researchers locked away in there caused the deaths of many people.”

“He’ll be _fine_! _I’m_ the one who always gets injured—”

“Because you’re always starting fights with people!”

“Quiet, Lombax!”

“Let’s just hope it hasn’t gotten free from the greenhouse already,” Ophelia said.

“Why do you always have to bring stuff like that up?” Ratchet asked, but she merely responded with a grin.

Effectively kicked out of the conversation, Dr. Nefarious granted them one final snarl before marching away to take a cautious glance through what remained of the greenhouse doors as Ophelia sidled up behind Ratchet to poke him in the side with her elbow.

“Now’s your chance,” she said into his ear, and he drew back with his furry eyebrows knitted together.

“For _what_?”

“Here’s the carving knife. But, you probably gotta move quick.” She jerked her head in the direction of the supervillain, whose back was now turned to them.

“That’s not funny!”

“It was _your_ idea!”

“No, it wasn’t!”

Clank directed a curious glance up at the pair, and when the topic of their whispering was not revealed to him, he turned away to join Nefarious in inspecting the nearest reaches of the greenhouse, the scientist having since taken up calling his butler’s name in the usual obnoxious manner he was so fond of.

“You’re going to attract the thing right to us with all that racket you’re making!” Ophelia said.

Nefarious paused just long enough to leer at her before continuing right where he had left off.

“Some people,” she said with a shake of her head, and though Ratchet agreed, he applied the statement to a wider range of people than she. With one final frown in her direction, he made to join his friend, whose hand had since risen to his metallic chin in dire concern.

“How long has Lawrence been in there?” Clank asked.

“I don’t _know_ ,” Nefarious said. “Ten minutes.”

Ratchet jumped as Ophelia popped up directly behind him.

“Perhaps we should go in and check it out ourselves. You know, confirm if the thing’s even in there. For all we know, it’s dead, and we have nothing to worry about.”

“That’s not what you were saying a few minutes ago,” the Lombax said. “And _I’m_ not going in there. Maybe the best thing to do is to block this place up again with whatever furniture we can find.”

“But, Ratchet, Lawrence is still in there.” Clank said.

A sly smirk spread over Ratchet’s face. “Yeah, so?”

Ophelia scratched her chin, her own expression twisting into one quite akin to the Lombax’s. “Good point. And if we just toss Nefarious in, we’ll be rid of two problems at once.”

The scientist rounded on her with a tightening grip on his blaster. “ _Excuse_ me? Listen, squishy, I could annihilate you right here and now and not even think twice about it, so I wouldn’t be making any threats if I were you!”

She raised her own voice to better match his as she replied, “It’s not a threat if I actually go through with it!”

“And you think _mine_ was?”

Ratchet jumped in front of Ophelia with his arms out wide as the supervillain raised his blaster with a frightening ferocity.

“Hey, put the gun down! This isn’t the time!”

Nefarious sniffed. “I think you overestimate your value here, Lombax. Lawrence is the one who thinks we need you, not me.”

“She didn’t mean anything by it, all right? Lower your—”

“What are you going to do about it? Do you have some kind of weapon hidden in that candle of yours?”

“All of you, please, listen!”

They all turned their attention to Clank, the little robot framed in the doorway with his arms held over his head, the flashlight fallen at his side. “We must not fight with each other. We should all be working _together_ right now.” He paused to gaze amongst them with his eyelids tilted over his glowing, green optics, and when no one made to interrupt, he continued, “I am going into the greenhouse to look for Lawrence. If anyone wants to come with me, I could use the help.”

They continued to stare at him as he picked up his flashlight and turned away, but he didn’t proceed any further into the darkness until he sent one final glance over his shoulder to see who would take him up on his offer to come along. Ratchet was the first to act, though he backtracked just long enough to grab Ophelia by the wrist to tug her along and out of the way of Nefarious’ blaster.

“Are you twits seriously going in there?” Ratchet heard the scientist ask from behind them.

The Lombax glanced back over his shoulder. “Stay there if you want. It’s fine if your butler is braver than you are.”

“That’s not it at all! All of you, go get digested, then!” Nefarious called after their retreating forms.

“Same to you!”

“Ratchet, please…”

“Sorry.” He turned away from the greenhouse entrance as Clank led them further inside, even as his heartbeat picked up at a growing concern he couldn’t help but voice. “Uh, Clank?”

“Yes, Ratchet?”

“Why are we doing this again?”

If Ratchet had thought this planet was humid, he didn’t know what word could describe the greenhouse. Dank and cold, the dense collection of overgrown plants quickly penned them in on all sides, while Clank’s flashlight swept over a veil of mist that whispered over the ground as water droplets slipped from the leaves above, creating an unpleasant surprise whenever they landed on the unfortunate Lombax. The strange thing was, it was not raining anymore, and thus there was nothing to fall through the cracks in the ceiling above. Not to mention, much of the plant life here was dead, their branches and stalks stiff and brown and fragile. These plants had no water to sustain them, not from rainwater nor the irrigation system the researchers had shut off once they sealed the greenhouse.

What that all meant, at least to the Lombax, was that there was no good reason for the unbearable damp.

The moisture invaded the air; it clung to Ratchet’s fur and might as well have weighed his ears down, it was so thick. He tried to shake it free even as Ophelia took to wiping her brow with one forearm, then the other. Clank, on the other hand, made no indication he noticed at all, and with no other choice available to them, they continued to follow him in silence.

Their slow pace came to a halt when twin blue lights floated into view, and Lawrence emerged from the darkness, picking plant debris from himself with even less amusement than typical. The butler stopped and studied them with raised eyebrows.

“We simply _must_ stop meeting like this,” he said, his words hushed even in comparison to his normally soft voice.

“Well, did you-” Ratchet began, but a rustling from behind sent them all spinning to face the sound, makeshift weapons at the ready.

They all breathed a sigh of relief, though it was a half felt one, when Clank’s flashlight fell on Nefarious just as the Kerwanoid was pushing his way through a crooked collection of shriveled palms.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Ratchet asked.

“The fern came back,” was his reply, and yet, it wasn’t the strangest thing he had ever said. He turned next to his butler, who attempted to place a finger over his mouth, but the gesture went unheeded. “Lawrence, what took—”

“Hey, everyone, be quiet! Listen!” Ophelia said with a wave of her arms. Once she decided her urgency had been made sufficiently clear, she went still, and they all strained their ears for whatever had caught her attention.

At first, all that could be heard was the whooshing of wind from outside and the intermittent pattering as water droplets fell upon unsuspecting leaves. And then Ratchet’s ears twitched at a sound that was even more unsettling when he had not heard it until now.

His breath caught in his chest, for there was a throaty noise, like air being sucked into dying lungs, distant, but more than clear. His gaze turned upward, and he lifted his candle higher, his hand stalling when something glinted high above. Something shone. And something moved.

“We need to leave.”

If anyone else had caught the same sound as he or any glimpse of what hung above, no one said, but they all followed without protest as Ratchet headed back towards the greenhouse entrance, and though he didn’t believe their progress made any more noise than the first time, it felt so much louder to his ears, and he couldn’t help but walk faster, regardless of how much wiser stealth seemed.

They arrived back in the labs, but even then, they didn’t stop, but continued on in the direction of the living quarters. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but he had felt a presence up there, something large, something deadly. They were leaving this planet tonight.

Even with the greenhouse far behind, the tension remained thick, not unlike the stifling humidity of the greenhouse, for the wind, as if it had been previously holding its breath, had begun to unleash a wailing unlike anything Ratchet had heard before.

“Ratchet,” Clank said as they arrived back in the living room, “I really have a bad feeling about this storm.”

“I think the storm’s the least of our worries. Nefarious,” he turned back to the group as Ophelia wandered by, seemingly with some unknown destination in mind she had yet seen fit to share, “you need to activate that device before we can leave, right?”

“So you can leave me behind?” The scientist crossed his arms. “Nice try, Lombax!”

“Well, we need _some_ way to avoid the lightning. Or are you implying your machine doesn’t really work anyway?”

“When did I ever say that, you moron?”

“I think you guys might want to see this.”

Ophelia looked back at them from the front door, which she had since decided to open during their brief squabbling, and beckoned to them with one sweep of her arm. The group exchanged a few brief glances amongst themselves before obeying her request, and as they approached, they crowded together to peer outside as one, yet with none of the pushing or elbowing normally seen in diverse groups made to share small spaces.

Ophelia swapped her candle with Clank’s flashlight and stepped out, and just as she was clear of the doorway, her mane of brightly colored hair began to rise upward of its own accord, but this time, the phenomenon didn’t seem to be due simply to the electrified air. It was almost as if something was pulling on it.

The ray of her flashlight began to climb a nearby tree, stopping at the top where the fronds were flopping about in the same upward force her hair had become part of, and Ratchet could feel Clank press against his shins as the little robot drew further back into the safety of the doorway.

She looked back at them and pointed skyward with a knowing nod. A lightning flash illuminated something in the clouds, and though Ratchet had less than a second to make out what it was, he could have sworn he caught what looked like a funnel, like some massive, inverted whirlpool churning above them and sucking in anything it could get a hold of.

At least, that’s what he _thought_ he saw in that fraction of a second, but it was enough.

“Ophelia, come back inside,” Clank said, but Ratchet had the opposite idea in mind.

“Aphelion! Clank, what if that…thing swallows her up?” The Lombax tried to clamber through the doorway, but the little robot dropped his candle in order to grab hold of his friend’s leg with both arms.

“Ratchet, do not leave, it is dangerous!”

“Get off!” He hobbled out the doorway with Clank in tow, just as Ophelia ran over to aid the robot in slowing him down.

“He’s right! Get back inside!” She grabbed him and attempted to tug him back in the direction of the doorway.

“Let him go if he wants!” Nefarious called out to them. “ _Something_ good has to come of all this!”

With the combined strength of Clank and Ophelia, Ratchet’s efforts at reaching his ship were reversed, though that didn’t stop him from flailing for all he was worth even after he was back inside and the door had been slammed safely shut once again. He made one, final lunge for the doorknob, but was dragged away when Ophelia doubled back behind him and gave his tail a good yank, an act which received no shortage of cackling from the supervillain.

The Lombax’s pride and his back end aching, he rubbed at his sore tail as Ophelia took on the sternest demeanor she could, including fists akimbo, a staple of all those who wished to appear strict.

“You’re not going anywhere, buddy! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“But, we could lose Aphelion to the storm! Then, how will we get off this planet?”

“We will just have to hope Aphelion fares all right,” Clank said. “Your life is more important.”

The scientist gave a groan. “You’re all going to make me sick!”

“Which wouldn’t be out of the question lately,” Lawrence said under his breath.

“And yet, for once, I’m actually on the squishy’s side,” Nefarious continued with crossed arms. “I don’t know about you, but _I_ don’t want to risk being stuck on this planet any longer.”

“I think you’re mainly just hoping I’ll die,” Ratchet said with a sullen stare.

The scientist grinned. “Oh, naturally.”

Clank shook his head. “Ratchet, even if you could safely reach our ship, there is little you could do if she _was_ dragged away. We will simply have to wait out the storm.”

“Yeah, but you seem to forget there’s something loose in here with us.”

“Speaking of which…” Lawrence began, but he need say no more.

Everyone froze, and Ratchet’s long ears perked up as they caught what might have been a shuffling from down the hallway. Or it could’ve been the sound of his nightmares coming to life. His dreams did have a disturbing habit of coming true lately, just like the time he dreamt a leak had formed over his bed.

“What do we do?” the Lombax whispered.

“Feed the squishies to it,” was Nefarious’ suggestion, though he didn’t seem to have grasped the unspoken need for hushed tones.

“Well, that includes you, too! And shh!”

“Don’t shoosh me!”

“Just shut up, or I’ll give you another concussion!” The Lombax brandished his wrench, in case there was any need to make his threat any more clear.

A hiss from down the hallway, like air escaping from a faulty pipe, was most effective of all in inspiring silence, and everyone moved to huddle in the corner nearest the doorway, where they would be most difficult to spot.

“Do we turn off our lights?” Ophelia asked. “Then, it won’t be able to see us.”

“Yeah, but then we won’t be able to see _it_ ,” came the Lombax’s muted response. “ _Now_ can we go outside and find Aphelion?”

“And get eaten by a cloud?”

“I’ll take my chances against a cloud when the alternative is getting eaten by a _plant_!”

“Then, why don’t we feed _her_ to the hungry, flesh-eating bush behind us,” Nefarious said in a half-whispered growl, “and the Lombax can take his chances against the lightning-spewing black hole in the sky! Then, everyone wins. At the very least, it’ll get the two of you to shut up!”

“Can you really not figure out what it means to whisper?” Ratchet glanced over at the hallway. “And…you know what bugs me most of all? This wouldn’t be such a big deal if I had my Pyrocitor! Where’d you hide my weapons anyway?”

They all turned to Lawrence, who looked as if he wanted to try very hard to feign ignorance.

“Yeah, where _did_ you put them, Lawrence?” Nefarious asked.

“Ironically, for the sake of keeping them safe, I had since moved them to your office, sir.”

“Wouldn’t I have noticed that?”

“Apparently not.”

Ratchet sighed. “Well, that rules _my_ idea out. Anything else—”

A muted squeak escaped Ophelia as she pointed a shaking finger at thick and fibrous vines which had just began to emerge from the hallway and feel their way about the wall like a hound sniffing out prey. Her eyes darted this way and that in the darkness until, without warning, she shoved Nefarious towards the writhing mass of tentacles now slithering over the wall and floor.

“Go and get it! You have the gun!” she said, clearly deciding there was little need for silence any longer.

The scientist shot back into the corner with an admirable amount of agility. “Why do _I_ have to do it? You have the knife!” He attempted to pry her from the corner next, but she merely clutched him right back.

“How is _that_ any better? What kind of villain are you, that you’re afraid of plants?”

Ratchet rolled his eyes and yanked the blaster from the distracted scientist’s grip. “Do I have to do _everything_ around here?”

The pair’s bickering ceased as the Lombax squared his shoulders and strode towards the hallway as an indistinct mass of mottled green and black pulled itself around the corner. Tentacles rose, rearing back to strike, and he shot at what seemed to be the main body. It scarcely seemed fazed by this attack, however, but merely continued its slow march, its squirming girth alone enough to paralyze one in awe if they were to allow it. It was only when his comrades directed their combined lights at it did it draw back, the weak rays glittering off rows of long, needle-like teeth, surrounded by groups of shorter ones that clustered together like thorns. A new weak point identified, Ratchet aimed for the maw that glistened with a thick sap he was sure he didn’t want to come into contact with.

The monstrous plant thrashed about at the Lombax’s feeble assault, only to regain its poise long enough to lunge for him and wrap its tentacles about his arm, the immense pressure enough to make the blaster fall from his grasp. He attempted to tug himself free, but this resistance only served to tighten its grip on him all the more as it set to dragging him ever closer with renewed speed.

Ratchet cried out as its low-set mouth drew open, releasing a wave of sickeningly hot breath, and a familiar damp, and he began to kick at its vicious teeth as the monster’s vast collection of tentacles began to descend upon him for one, final embrace. And then there was a blur of red and green as Ophelia leapt forward and sliced through the vines holding him with her carving knife.

The Lombax staggered free of the tentacles that had too recently held him in thrall and tore the severed vines from his arm as if they might still hold some of their former master’s malice just as his gaze darted to Clank, to find the little robot gesturing to him with frantic sweeps of his arm. With no further coaxing necessary, Ratchet dashed after his friend, in hot pursuit of Nefarious and Lawrence, who had already darted off down the hallway. They ducked into the first bedroom they found and slammed the door shut behind them.

Nefarious groaned in utmost despair when he turned around to find his pair of nemeses safe and sound. “Why can’t you just die like all the other squishies?”

Ratchet locked the door for good measure. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“Ratchet, where is Ophelia?” Clank asked.

The Lombax grew stiff. “Oh, crap…”

As if on cue, something began pounding on the other side of the door, though had the racket not included pleading, he couldn’t say he would have opened it. Despite demands from Nefarious to do the opposite, Ratchet opened the door just enough for Ophelia to slip through.

Ophelia’s panting could be heard clearly in the semi-darkness, and Ratchet waited for her breathing to calm before asking, “Are you all right?”

Her head bobbed up and down, in a heavy, jerking sort of manner. “Yeah, I’m…fine.” She shuffled by him to head for the far side of the room. “I-I managed to slow it down a bit. It…it doesn’t seem to like the light, I think. I don’t think its eyes are that good.”

Her gaze was pulled to the door, as was everyone else’s, at a sharp clatter from beyond the door like dishes being knocked to the ground. Ratchet held his breath. At least _something_ was making use of their unfinished dinner.

It felt like an eternity, the length of time they waited, huddled in the corner as an unnatural wind blew behind them, the only other sound to punctuate the howling outside a sickening crack as one side of the storm shutters launched itself from the window like a stray bolt to a magnet. The tension grew almost unbearable when the door shuddered from a pressure on the other side, causing each and every one of them to press themselves further into the corner, but even this passed, and Ratchet couldn’t say if it lasted minutes or just mere seconds. It wasn’t until long after the scratching and shuffling out in the hallway was but a haunting memory, a reminder that the nightmare they had just seen was no dream at all, that they began to wander out from the corner, to stretch sore joints or to simply move, and to find more comfortable places to bide their time until morning.

The first thing Ophelia did was to venture a peek through the blinds, but she gave this up when she either couldn’t see anything or didn’t like what she saw. Lawrence looked just as bored as usual as he kept a silent vigil on the far side of the room, and Nefarious had since moved to sit with crossed arms in a spot farthest from the rest. Rarely before had Ratchet experienced such silence. In fact, only thunder and the occasional grumblings of those about him, or a sneeze here or there from Nefarious, could be heard, along with the soft footfalls of Ophelia as she took to pacing the length of the room before dropping onto the bed. Ratchet yawned from where he sat beside Clank. As tired as he was, he had serious doubts he, nor anyone else, would be getting any sleep tonight.

He arched an eyebrow, rather weakly, however, as even it seemed lethargic at this late hour, as Nefarious yanked off one glove with no forewarning and flung it down with an undeserved ferocity, before he got to scratching at his exposed forearm in a baffling display of aggravation.

“Ever since that blasted fern bit me, my arm’s been itching like crazy!” the Kerwanoid said. “And now it’s going numb! Once I rid the galaxy of squishies, the plants are next!”

“I’ll make a note of it, sir,” Lawrence said, looking ready to yawn. If it was a thing robots commonly did, of course.

Ratchet let tired eyelids slide closed. He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep tonight, but he could at least rest his eyes. “I just got attacked by something a lot worse than a fern, and _I’m_ fine.”

“No one cares about _you_ , Lombax! What if I lose my entire arm because of this?”

“Then, I guess that’ll just leave you with one arm.”

“Unless it spreads,” the butler added.

“That’s not funny!”

Ratchet opened one eye as Clank pushed himself to his feet. “Let me take a look at that,” he said, extending an arm as he approached the disgruntled scientist, who drew back at the diminutive robot’s advance.

“You’re not touching me!”

“I only wish to help you.”

“Well, go help someone else!”

Clank’s voice took on a more stern quality as he continued, “Dr. Nefarious, it will only take a moment.”

Nefarious grumbled, but obliged, the robot’s strict tone even more effective than Ratchet would have ever believed. Clank pulled back the scientist’s sleeve to better inspect his forearm in the candlelight, and Ratchet cringed at the sight of skin mottled to black nearly up to the elbow.

“Oh, my,” was all Clank could say, while Nefarious could utter no more than a gasp. “You will need to get this checked out.”

“By who?” Nefarious’ voice came out in a squeak. “Lawrence, I _told_ you it would get infected!”

“Actually, to my recollection, _I_ was the one who said that,” the butler said. “I suppose we’ll just need to find you a doctor once we’re free of this planet. A _real_ one, I mean.”

Nefarious tugged his arm free from Clank’s grip and hugged it to himself. “Go away! You’ve done enough!”

Ratchet offered his friend a bemused shrug as Clank returned to sit beside him, and they all resumed the silence of earlier, an uncomfortable hush that was not broken again that night. They were leaving this planet in the morning. And Ratchet refused to think about the alternative.


	9. A Shocking Escape

Ratchet half-dozed until morning and was released from an unsettling collection of dreamt possibilities as to their potential fate, each more grim than the last, when Clank shook his shoulder to point out the early rays of cloud-filtered sunlight sifting through the blinds. The Lombax winced as stiff muscles from a night spent on the floor flexed once more, and he forced himself to take a peek outside, his shoulders slumping at the sight that greeted him. What he had glimpsed in that brief instant of illumination the night before, he had hoped was merely some hallucination brought about by paranoia, but now that a new day was here, it was confirmed that he had not been mistaken.

Just as he had feared, the sky was pitted with a massive inverted funnel that swirled with untold ferocity in the low, dark clouds, the monstrosity, the impossibility, now far easier to spot in the morning light. Lightning arced within the roiling tempest, and he watched in dumbstruck horror as an entire tree was uprooted and sent skyward, spinning without hope end over end. His tired mind sharpened, the natural response to danger, and his ears twitched when he took notice of an unsettling creaking that he hadn’t recalled hearing before, as if the very building itself was resisting some unseen strain.

He spared Nefarious a less than gentle kick to wake him, the scientist somehow fast asleep, before heading for the door with a suspicious air of nonchalance.

“Who just kicked me?”

“It was probably Lawrence.” Ratchet pressed his ear to the door as Ophelia rolled off the bed to check out the view through the window herself, as if she suspected she might have better luck. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting out of here before that… _thing_ sucks in the entire building.” He looked back, his furry eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “Or else there’s a good chance we’ll all end up losing limbs like Nefarious.”

“That’s _not_ going to happen!”

The Lombax returned one of his large ears to the door, one feature of his that was always useful in situations where listening for murderous creatures was a must. “I don’t hear anything,” he said. “Nefarious, do you think you can get that, uh, device activated?”

When Ratchet returned his attention to the group, they had all begun to gather around him with varying levels of enthusiasm. Nefarious crossed his arms. “Oh, I don’t think so, squishy. You think you can leave me behind so easily?”

“Well, _someone_ has to do it. We need the best chance of getting off this planet as we can get. I _promise_ we won’t leave without you. We just need to go and get the ship ready.”

“Only if Clank comes with me,” Nefarious said, and the little robot looked up in response to his name.

“Why _Clank_?” Ratchet asked.

The scientist stomped his foot at such an assuredly absurd question. “Because. I _know_ you wouldn’t leave _him_ behind, now would you?” He cast a withering glance in the direction of his butler. “Lawrence, keep an eye on these fools!”

“Of course, sir,” the robot said with a sigh. “Tagging along is most definitely an excellent use of my skills.”

Ratchet lifted a hand before him to stall any further discussion. “Wait a minute, I can agree to most of that, but _I’ll_ be the one coming with you. Clank, you can take care of Aphelion, right?”

“Why, yes, I—”

“Great. Now let’s get going!” He made to open the door, but was delayed from doing so thanks to a growl from behind. Ratchet rolled his eyes as he spun to face the one responsible for the noise. “What’s the problem _now_?”

Nefarious sniffed, though in disapproval or as a result of his recent cold, Ratchet wasn’t sure. Nor did he care. “Why do I have to be stuck with _you_?”

“Because, Clank is two feet tall, and I don’t trust you!” Ratchet swung open the door. “Now let’s go! And don’t think I’ve forgotten about those weapons you owe me!”

Once it was confirmed that nothing was currently lying in wait for them in the immediate vicinity (and Nefarious, due to some shameless shoving, managed to be the first to retrieve the fallen gun Ratchet had…borrowed last night during his brief encounter with the plant from beyond), they split up to go their separate ways. Clank took on the role of leading the other two on the hunt for Aphelion, while Ratchet was left to tolerate the company of an already irritated Dr. Nefarious, who grumbled just as much as he sniffled through a stuffed nose and scratched at his infected arm. Though, to be fair, it seemed even the hope of imminent escape wasn’t enough to lighten the Lombax’s declining mood, either.

“So, where are we going?” Ratchet asked as he was left with no choice but to follow or be left behind when the scientist began a purposeful march in the direction opposite that which the trio had gone.

Nefarious heaved a sigh, as if formulating a response to even so simple a question was too much to bear. “To my office. And don’t get any ideas, squishy.”

The Lombax continued to shuffle a good distance behind as he asked the next obvious question. “Like what?”

“I’m not _giving_ you any ideas, either!” The Kerwanoid glared back at his comrade. “And quit walking behind me!”

“Uh, yeah, sure, so you can shoot _me_ in the back?”

“What fun would there be in shooting you in the back? I couldn’t see the look on your face as you _die_!”

“I feel so much better now.”

Nefarious refused to proceed any further down the shadowy corridor until Ratchet agreed to walk at his side. And yet, even then, the two repeatedly caught the one beside them eyeing the other with murderous intent (in the scientist’s case) or suspicious frowns (in the Lombax’s), and they surely spent more of their time watching each other than paying any attention to their surroundings. It was only thanks to being gifted with rather large ears that Ratchet noticed a rustling around the corner, granting him the forewarning to grab the scientist by the arm and tug him back before he could venture beyond it.

“Don’t touch—”

“Shh!”

The pair listened, but nothing more than a soft shuffling could be heard, like something feeling its way across a rough floor. Ratchet put a hand to the wall, half aware of the peeling paint that flaked off at his touch, and peered around the corner, and he drew in a sharp inhalation of breath when he caught sight of the beast they were so intent on avoiding through a doorway down the hall from them. While most of its bulk was either hidden from view or concealed in the shadows, a few stray tendrils had wandered out into the hallway. He jerked back when one turned in his direction, as if a vine could be said to face anything, and after they had engaged in a rather bizarre staring contest Ratchet wouldn’t soon forget, it retracted back to its owner in a reverse slither.

When the creature showed no signs of emerging from its makeshift lair, Ratchet nodded to his comrade, and they began to creep past, taking great care to step over a segment of vine that had decided to snake several times across the width of the hallway, while its end flicked this way and that like the aggravated tip of a cat’s tail. The Lombax bit his lip when a sudden boom of thunder shook the floor, and they both froze on the spot until it was confirmed the creature had taken no notice. They proceeded to tiptoe with just a bit more speed the rest of the way, and once they reached Nefarious’ office, Ratchet made sure he closed the door as quietly as was possible with quivering limbs. This done, he pressed his back up against it, as if his slight weight would make any noticeable difference had the monster decided it desired entrance.

“So,” he began as he gave the room an initial survey, “where are my weapons?”

Nefarious waved a hand at him. “I don’t know. _Lawrence_ is the one who put them here.” He stalked over to the far side of his desk and began to rummage through the contents of the drawers.

“I don’t think they’d fit in there.”

The scientist glared at him. “I’m not _looking_ for your stupid weapons, you twit. I need the blueprints for the electro-eradication ionization coil.”

Ratchet’s his lips worked to free the word that had become stuck there. “B-blueprints…?”

“That’s what I said.” Nefarious paused in his searching to glance up. “It’s not completely…finished.”

Ratchet’s hand met his forehead with a smack as he said, “It’s not finished? What are we supposed to do _now_?”

“It’s _almost_ done! And don’t nag at me!” Nefarious struck the desk with both fists. “You’re just like Lawrence!”

The Lombax groaned, as much at this comparison to a certain butler as the fact that their current state of “almost” free from this miserable planet was just not good enough. Not even almost. “If it was almost done, why didn’t you just _finish_ it?”

“Go find your weapons already and leave me in peace!”

With a heavy sigh, Ratchet turned to inspect a nearby cabinet, and he blinked at the discovery that his missing belongings turned out to be far easier to locate than he had expected. In fact, his weapons, all of them, just so happened to be in the first place he looked, the first stroke of luck he had experienced since… He paused to think this over. Never. Never before had he been this lucky. He grinned at the familiar weight in his hands and readied his Pyrocitor. Let’s see how well that overgrown weed liked _this_?

“You really didn’t notice—” Ratchet began, a twinge of amusement evident in his voice, only to be broken off by a shriek from his comrade, who appeared to have disappeared from the room quite inexplicably.

“Hey, don’t aim that thing at me!”

Ratchet frowned in the supervillain’s direction as Nefarious emerged from behind his desk with his own blaster aimed at the Lombax.

Ratchet rolled his eyes. “Oh, give me a break! Maybe _you’d_ kill someone in cold blood, but not me!”

The scientist used the surface of the desk to pull himself up again, though his eyes remained narrowed in a manner that said he was not entirely convinced.

Ratchet chuckled as he continued. “What?” He stepped forward as a sly grin spread across the width of his feline features. “Don’t tell me you’re…afraid of me? Are you?”

“Don’t be stupid!” the supervillain said, but his tone dropped as his gaze returned to the Pyrocitor gripped in his comrade’s hands. “But, squishies are a lot more flammable than robots.”

“Yeah, so whenever you get any violent thoughts about me, just keep that in mind.”

Nefarious snorted and snatched up a roll of papers under his free arm as he attempted to infuse some semblance of confidence back into his demeanor, namely with an increase in volume that was so easy for a voice like his, paired with a hand he had lifted skyward. “Let’s go, Lombax! Soon you’ll get to witness my brilliance!”

Which could be true. It just depended on your definition of the word “brilliance”.

Though the hallway remained empty upon their return, and despite the fact that Ratchet currently had the safety of a flamethrower to hide behind, he wasn’t quite _feeling_ that safety at the moment, and he couldn’t say why it made him more uneasy rather than less to find that the vines formerly snaking out from the room down the hall were no longer there.

It was, once again, Nefarious’ turn to lead the way, and Ratchet fell in line beside him, this time without a hint of protest from either of them. In fact, their stroll through the dimly lit corridors of the abandoned facility contained a silence completely unlike their earlier bickering. This lull neither seemed willing to break was too much like that found in a tomb, the proverbial silence before the storm. The hush all creatures, no matter from which planet they hailed, fell into when things weren’t right. It was the way crickets ceased to chirp when something large passed by.

The fur on the back of Ratchet’s neck pricked up at this thought, and his mind latched without his consent onto the groaning of the roof above, and in the silence, he thought he could almost hear each nail being wrenched loose. He swore the wind had begun to scream over their heads, not merely a whistle, but a great wailing, and he wanted to yell right back if his nerves would allow it. Though, perhaps that was best, for a pinprick had formed on the small of his back, growing worse with each passing minute, and though his head whipped back at random intervals so that his eyes could search the shadows behind them, he spotted nothing that should cause him such discomfort.

Nevertheless, something was following them. He knew it.

After a time, the feeling faded, and Ratchet was just grateful he had never brought the matter up to his comrade when he noted how jumpy Nefarious had become after he shot an unwitting computer and a long since empty watercooler quite to death when they formed a silhouette he didn’t like. Ever since that startling display of unprovoked violence, the Lombox made especially sure not to startle him, and he wondered if perhaps being reverted back into an organic had taken a greater toll on the scientist than he had first believed.

Nefarious _had_ been right, though. Squishies _were_ more flammable. They also dissolved better in stomach acid, a thought Ratchet decided he should best avoid dwelling upon, or else he might developer a twitchy trigger finger himself, something he didn’t think the jittery Kerwanoid would respond well to.

They had just entered one of the facility’s larger labs when the pair froze as the unnatural silence was broken by a shattering of glass from which direction they could no better pinpoint than a vague, somewhere ahead of them. They both remained like heavily breathing statues as they listened with strained ears for further evidence of danger, but when none came, Nefarious choked out a whispered query as to the cause of the noise. As if the Lombax would know any better.

Ratchet began to creep forward, and he paused to look back when Nefarious did not follow, but remained rooted to the spot, shivering far more than he was likely aware of. The Lombax shook his head. He really _did_ have to do everything around here. He swept his gaze across the room and spotted a moist glistening on the far side of the lab that had haunted his thoughts ever since he had first laid eyes upon it, the dull glittering he knew could only be a mass of teeth and the nauseating wetness of writhing tentacles. His heart grew cold. It was as if it had been waiting for them.

When Ratchet could speak again, his voice was breathless. “How much farther?”

“I keep it in the room just past you.”

“Then, I’ll hold it off.”

He heard the scientist run past him, the sound of his footsteps halting for just a moment as he said, “Don’t get too cocky, Lombax.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just an overgrown bush. Let the hero do the hero’s work, and the villain do, well, whatever it is _you_ do.”

Nefarious snorted, but didn’t stick around for further banter. Ratchet heard a door slam shut behind him, and he drew in a deep breath and began a slow march forward. That thing had terrorized him for long enough. Before he had even laid eyes on it, back when it was still nothing more than a mystery that resided behind a locked door, the very notion of its existence had haunted him, but no more. A brief flash of comfort passed through his subconscious right in that moment, the conviction that what you could see was not as terrible as what you couldn’t. Now that he could see the image of his fear firsthand, as horrible as it was, at least it was something that could be faced. And if it could be faced, it could be stopped.

His unsteady stride halted once he reached the middle of the room, but even then, the creature remained in its dark corner, and he could almost imagine it crouching there in fear if he had known any better. No, it was not uncertainty that kept it where it was. He could feel its gaze, as sharp as the teeth that could so easily rip into his flesh if he allowed his concentration to slip, and he knew deep in his gut this was not cowardice it displayed, but something far worse. He could sense its thoughts, its intelligence. As he watched it, it watched him back. It considered him.

Ratchet gritted his teeth and took another step closer. “Co-come on. I know as soon as I turn my back, you’re going to come at me, so let’s just get this over with.” He just hoped it wasn’t hungry for Lombax.

The long, curved teeth rose in an ominous hiss, like the escape of steam, and acid dripped from its jagged maw. Ratchet swallowed when the thick ooze hit the floor, and smoke rose from where it sizzled at the contact. He tightened his grip on the Pyrocitor, but before he knew what was happening, something had grabbed his ankle. With no more forewarning than a rough yank, he fell hard on his back and yelped as he was dragged towards a dark and cavernous mouth that was far more frightening from this angle. Not to mention the fact that there was no maniac with a carving knife to assist him this time.

And call him paranoid, but he really doubted he could count on Nefarious.

Ratchet kicked, but his struggling only caused it to squeeze tighter until both of his legs were securely bound by sinewy tentacles. He winced at the crushing pressure and grabbed the leg of a nearby table to slow his progress. With his free hand, he unleashed a blaze from his flamethrower, only for the creature to jerk harder in response, causing the table that was his temporary salvation to scrape over the floor until his grip could hold on no longer.

The Lombax coughed as dust came down from the ceiling, and he managed to throw his face to the side just in time to avoid a hail of material as the tiles above him began to crumble. Cracks of light started to show where the roof had once been, making way for the unsettling shrieking of wind outside. His determination renewed out of mere urgency, Ratchet blasted his attacker with another wave of flames as sweat beaded on his brow from the heat and intermingled with that brought about by his very fight for survival.

It seemed the closer proximity was to his advantage, for the creature squealed and hissed louder than ever as the flames licked at its thorns and leaves, and when it did not let go, he aimed the Pyrocitor lower in an attempt to target the tentacles holding his legs captive. Its cries rose in volume, became horrifying even to his own ears, and with a few more kicks, there was a wet snap, and he at last pulled free.

The Lombax shot to his feet, and he followed the monster as it attempted to retreat back into the corner. By now, its body had begun to char and blacken, and pieces began to crumble away to reveal what hid within, the source of the acid that dripped from between sickle-like teeth, a sickly yellow sack of it. Liquid began to seep out from where the heat had worn it thin, and Ratchet’s lips drew back in a grimace at the sight.

“Nefarious,” his voice cracked as he called back over his shoulder, “are you almost done?” He blasted the creature again. “Hey, Nefarious—”

The scientist burst through the lab door through which he had retreated, gloved hands clutching either side of the doorframe as if he depended on them to remain upright. “Patience, squishy! Just give me a few more minutes!”

“But, I-I don’t think I have…” the Pyrocitor sputtered, and the flames came out in a few more bursts before the weapon could expel no more, “a few more minutes.”

Seeing its opening, the monster began to slither forward, dragging itself towards him with what remained of its withered tendrils. Ratchet retreated backwards in quick steps, faltering for just a second as his mind struggled to decide on a new course of action. Without thinking, he replaced the worn out Pyrocitor with his wrench and drew it back. “Don’t make me use this!”

He cried out when it spat a stream of acid in his direction, and though he managed to sidestep just in time, he was not quick enough to avoid the few drops that landed on his sleeve, and he gasped as it wore through the fabric and began to work next on his fur. In his distraction, the monster flung forward thorny vines, and he just managed to beat them away with his wrench. It came for him again and again, and his reflexes slowed the longer he was forced to defend himself in such a manner. In one final lunge, it wrapped several of its tendrils about his neck and squeezed, and he choked out a gurgle of panic as he tried to work his fingers underneath to pry them loose.

A ringing began in Ratchet’s ears as he struggled for air, while the already crumbling ceiling started to collapse about him. Whatever wasn’t sucked into the vortex, at least. And beneath it all, another sound joined in, the dull rumbling of something heavy being rolled across the floor. And the grating, but surprisingly welcome, voice of Nefarious.

“You’re going to want to duck!”

A strangled grunt was the best response the Lombax could provide. His ears twitched at a low hum that made the very air itself vibrate, the unmistakable drone of something large being activated, followed by several blaster shots. The monster shrieked and flailed as it was struck, releasing its victim in the process as it drew back to prepare itself for another potential volley.

Ratchet fell to his hands and knees and proceeded to suck in oxygen that had never before tasted so refreshing. “You sure…took your time,” he told the floor.

“Don’t make me regret the decision, Lombax! Now, look!” Nefarious took hold of him by the collar and tugged his face in the direction of what could only be described as a lightning rod on steroids, only to drop him a second later in favor of throwing his arms open wide in one grand gesture. “Behold, the electro-eradication ionization coil!”

Ratchet struggled to his feet, but was otherwise aware of little else as he stared up in dumbstruck awe as the device extended through the ruined ceiling, a towering mass of interconnecting beams and coils, as purposeful as it was haphazard, a fitting reflection of the mad mind who had made its existence possible. Nefarious began to cackle wildly as electricity arced down from the clouds above, each jagged bolt striking with a violence and a precision that could almost make one wonder if they were driven by a mind of their own.

The monster, on the other hand, was far from impressed, for with a swing of its vines, it struck out with enough force to send them both flying across the room. Ratchet landed with a grunt on the floor, and his eyes widened in horror as he caught sight of the beast pulling itself towards them with renewed vigor. His fur began to prick up, and he knew in that moment that only one thing came next.

“Stay down!”

His entire body felt energized, every fiber of him prickling as if circuits ran through his limbs rather than veins, as lightning began to travel down the device in a great torrent. Ratchet covered his head as thick, blue bolts began to dance about the room, lashing out from the massive lightning rod in a violent fury, shattering glass and splintering wood wherever they struck. And yet, even as this destruction took place about them, the Lombax couldn’t ignore the distinct smell of smoke, and his heart skipped a beat when he discovered the cause. It was the monster that was frying, and its entire body, tendrils and all, twitched in some strange tango before collapsing in a boneless heap.

By now, the room was littered with debris, and the ceiling was nonexistent. Anything not nailed down began to lift into the air by the strengthening whirlwind above, and Ratchet could feel a tug on his own clothing.

“Let’s get-” he began, only to yelp when a stray spark made contact with his wrench and forced him to release his grip on it. “Let’s get out of here before we end up like that thing!”

He retrieved his wrench and made a mad shuffle across the floor on all fours, flinching each time a bolt of lightning struck nearby. Even once they had crawled through the door and slammed it shut behind them, they didn’t stick around once the door began to shudder with the unseen pull acting upon it from the other side.

“If we weren’t so close to dying,” Ratchet said as they began to march down the corridor with quick strides, “I’d be more impressed. You built that thing yourself?”

“Of _course_ , I did. It’s just made from some scraps I found lying around. And a dismantled toaster.”

“I guess that explains why it’s so dangerous to stick a fork in them,” Ratchet said and chuckled. When he looked back at his comrade, however, all he received in response was a frown. “In a toaster, I mean… Okay, bad joke.”

Their pace seemed to increase with time, their progress spurred on by the sounds of destruction taking place about them, sometimes distant rumblings, other times, and with increasing frequency, just on the other side of walls they passed or in rooms they had too recently left behind. The next door Ratchet opened caused him to jerk back, for the outside appeared before him far sooner than he had expected, and his racing heart only beat harder as he witnessed trees, and the very earth itself, being ripped up to join the vortex whirling above them. The nightmare in the sky seemed to have grown in size since he had last seen it, and the gusts it brought whipped hungrily at their clothes.

“Why do all the bad things have to happen to me?” Nefarious asked the universe, and he released a groan as he buried his face in both hands.

“Where’s Clank?” Ratchet’s stomach tightened into a knot as soon as those words left his lips. Where _was_ Clank? What if…

“Who _cares_ about Clank! He’s a robot! He’ll be fine! What about _me_?” his voice rose into a squeak as he practically sobbed into his hands. “I’m so breakable now!”

A flash of red caught his eyes, and the Lombax’s gaze shot over to Aphelion as she made a wide sweep around a clump of trees that were in the unfortunate process of being uprooted . Ratchet ran outside and waved his hands over his head. “Clank, we’re over here!” he said, more for his own comfort than an actual belief his words could be heard.

The vortex seemed to possess a gravity all its own, a pull he had to fight hard to overcome, as the ship banked towards him. Once it had drawn near, the cockpit slid back to reveal Clank in the pilot’s seat, Ophelia practically falling out in her reach for him, and Lawrence looking as if this very thing had happened more times than he cared to count.

“Get in!” Ophelia said and stretched her hand further in anticipation of his, but before he took hold of it, his gaze whipped back to what was left of the research facility.

“Nefarious, come on! We’re getting out of here!”

Nefarious merely shook his head from the crumbling doorway. “Are you _insane_ , Lombax? We’re going to get killed!”

“We _are_ if we stick around here!” Ratchet fought against the wind’s pull and was forced to sprint just to approach the collapsing building, and once he reached it, he had no choice but to hold onto the doorway, lest he be dragged backwards again. “Just come on!”

“No!”

“I don’t have time for this!” The Lombax grabbed the scientist and held on tight as the door whipped by them as it was torn from its hinges. “Trust me, we’re going to be fine!”

“Why should I trust _you_?”

“Look, I don’t trust you, either, but we’ve managed to last _this_ long without murdering each other, so I think that has to count for something!”

Whether Nefarious came willingly or not scarcely mattered, for they were both yanked from the doorway with a mutual scream and clutched tightly at the other without thought.

Ratchet felt his feet leave the ground, and the world spun about them, but the feeling didn’t last long, for the air was knocked out of him when they both landed in Aphelion’s cockpit, still in the middle of an embrace neither seemed to be aware of. With no waste in time, Clank sealed them off from the outside storm and activated the boosters. The vortex continued to hold them tight, and they hovered motionless in midair as debris whirled about them. In the near distance, the massive lightning rod could be seen jutting up from what remained of the research facility, diligently continuing its assigned task of draining the electricity from the heavy, black clouds that hung a short distance above. And then, with a jerk, they were free of the storm’s grip and sped off and upwards towards the cloud barrier that had for so long held them hostage.

Ratchet and Nefarious, just now taking notice of the hug they had too openly been sharing, released the other with a clear shudder of disgust. Aside from this initial repulsion, however, they remained otherwise silent as Clank piloted the ship in a steep ascent upward, sudden blackness, save for the glow of Aphelion’s controls, overtaking them as they entered the clouds.

Ratchet could almost hear his heart pounding, a rhythmic thumping that felt as if it spread to his very bones. Their escape wasn’t guaranteed; not until they had left the planet’s atmosphere could he catch his breath and clear his mind. And then they were met with a new kind of blackness, the eternal darkness of space that had never before looked so serene, so inviting, and the twinkling of stars light years away.

The Lombax released a breath as every bit of tension drained from his body. “We finally made it.” Not that such an obvious statement needed saying, but the acknowledgement was enough to invite murmuring from Ophelia and a firm nod from Clank.

“Yes, we did, Ratchet. Another mission well done,” the little robot said.

Ratchet grinned. “Yeah.”

“Hey, Doctor, not a bad job with the, uh…whatever that was back there,” Ophelia said. “You really had a lot of free time, huh?” she added with a snigger.

“Don’t talk to me,” Nefarious said, any relief he should be feeling for so narrowly dodging death not finding its way into his expression. He began to squirm in his seat, giving Ratchet a few good elbows to the ribs in the process. “It’s so crowded in here!”

Lawrence shook his head. “Even now, your attention to detail continues to impress, sir.”


	10. Things Continue to Suck…

It was a trait common amongst the majority of sentient lifeforms, those that were organic and robotic alike, for their gratitude to fade quickly, whether after receiving the kindness of another or finding themselves safe and sound after a horrifying, near-death experience. And though Ratchet was fully aware of the fate of any who ventured into the frigid vacuum of space unprotected, that knowledge didn’t make him consider flinging himself into it any less.

It all started with a rearranging of seats. The idea came into being courtesy of Nefarious, in a space that was almost too cramped for even something as trivial as an idea _to_ fit, though the way in which he said it hinted that any gratitude on his part at being alive had vanished before he had even had a chance to feel it. Nevertheless, this suggestion, or command, take your pick, met with little argument, for it would spare Ratchet the fate of having to sit next to him for any longer than necessary, for the scientist was undeniably the worst person one could possibly be doomed to share a small space with, save for Qwark or an aggravated Kerchu.

Lawrence was climbed over several times, while Ophelia ended up in Ratchet’s lap at one point and didn’t seem to be in a terrible hurry to leave it. In the end, Ratchet was returned to his rightful place in the pilot’s seat, while Nefarious proceeded to grumble over being pushed up against the window on the opposite side, even if that spot had been his goal throughout the entire grand display of maneuvering about like the pieces of a sliding puzzle. The unlucky fool beside him was his butler, but he was used to being in close proximity to the maniac, so the Lombax had little sympathy. That left Ophelia next to Ratchet and Clank in the last space available, her lap. And though the little robot expressed great concern that the cockpit didn’t have the proper number of safety harnesses and airbags to safely accommodate this many, no one seemed the least bit concerned by this knowledge.

Safety was certainly the last thing on _Ratchet’s_ mind, as the call of space grew stronger and stronger with each minute that inched by, that he had to tighten his grip on the yoke to resist the urge to surrender to it. Then again, that may have simply been a ringing in his ears brought about by Nefarious’ incessant complaining in a voice Ratchet would have very much liked to drown out by scraping his nails down a chalkboard, had one been available. When he wasn’t whining about the possibility of his arm rotting off, he was grumbling over the discomfort he believed himself to be in to a greater extent than anyone else, and the Lombax began to mull over the possibility of expelling the scientist, rather than himself, into the icy embrace of space.

“So,” Ophelia began, a word she had repeated nearly a dozen times thus far in her quest to take advantage of one of the rare gaps in Nefarious’ peeved ramblings. Seizing her chance, she went with it, “That was a pretty wild ride back there, huh? I almost didn’t think we were gonna make it.”

Ratchet felt her gaze on the side of his face and was forced to glance over when she remained silent. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, I’m gonna name it. Did that place have a name? Because—”

“It probably did, but I don’t know what—”

“Yeah, so, it needs one. I think I’ll go with…” she tapped her chin with one finger, “…Myrtle.”

Ratchet arched an eyebrow at her. “ _Myrtle_?”

“Yep. I know you like it. It’s my grandma-ma’s name. She used to drink water a lot because she had a dry mouth, so I think she’d like that place. When she’s not getting hunted by clover or being sucked into a swirling vortex of death, of course.”

“Yeah, I bet your grandma would love that her legacy to you is chronic dry-mouth,” the Lombax said.

“Well, I think it is a lovely name, Ophelia,” Clank said. “Your grandmother would be quite pleased.”

She grinned and tickled him under the chin with one finger. “Aw, you’re a sweet, little robot.”

Clank giggled at the affection afforded him just as Nefarious released a loud snort, a clear sign his earlier irritability was about to resume right from where it had left off.

“You can’t name a planet after a person!” the scientist said.

Ophelia turned to face her accuser with her head held high, a position that maximized her ability to stare down her nose at him in lofty disapproval. “And why not? I can name a planet whatever I want.”

“Why _not_? Because it sounds stupid, that’s why not!”

“It does not! And stop giving me the stink eye!”

“I’ll stop giving you the ‘stink eye’ once you stop being a twit!”

“I’ll never stop!”

“No, I’m sure you won’t!”

“Ratchet,” Clank began, but he was forced to repeat himself when he could scarcely be heard over the ensuing argument, “Ratchet, I believe now would be a good time to enter the coordinates we found in the crashed ship. They should allow us to find out where our mystery thief was headed before his ship was stolen.”

“Good thinking, bud-” Ratchet gasped as Ophelia elbowed him in the ribs. His ears drew back as he turned to glare at her, but she seemed far more concerned with aiming an accusatory finger in Nefarious’ direction than heeding the glint in the Lombax’s eyes.

“Ratchet, did you hear what this guy just said? Tell him I _am_ a natural redhead! Tell him!”

“Your hair doesn’t match your eyebrows, which means you dyed it!” Nefarious said, who had somehow managed to stand at an awkward angle in the small space and was using Lawrence to keep from falling over.

“It does not! And what do _you_ know about hair, baldy—”

Ratchet rolled his eyes. “Hey, children, why don’t we stop squabbling! I’m entering the coordinates we found on…on Planet… _Myrtle,_ ” he grimaced as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth, “so we can find out where Nefarious’ kidnapper was heading. I don’t know how long it’ll take to get there, but I’d _really_ like it if all of you could just shut up!”

“ _You_ shut up!” was the scientist’s retort, and Ratchet refrained from speaking further. It was like arguing with a child.

Now that the supervillain had gotten the last word in, that seemed to be the end of it, more or less. Nefarious would complain periodically about an increasing ache in his arm or the unfairness that a genius like him could still suffer from occasional coughing and sneezing, while Ophelia dug about for snacks and found an old Qwarkbar under the seat Ratchet didn’t recall losing. In fact, the only person he knew to eat the junk was the one the treat was named after, and that idiot hadn’t been in the ship for a good year now. Not since Ratchet was forced to fly Qwark to the hair stylist (ironic, considering the Lombax often pondered whether or not the superhero was bald beneath that spandex cap of his) after he had totaled his star cruiser swerving to avoid a cloud.

An hour passed, and several more, and a good amount of elbowing and squirming began, but it didn’t last, for just as Ratchet was thinking a preemptive scolding was in order, Clank hushed them all in order to direct their attention out the windscreen.

“The stars are gone,” the little robot said.

The mere statement alone was sufficient to make the fur on the back of Ratchet’s neck prickle, but it wasn’t until the Lombax blinked once, twice, and his vision had confirmed his friend’s words as truth, that his blood chilled. There wasn’t so much as the pinprick of a distant star to mar the blackness surrounding them. Never before had Ratchet seen such emptiness, as unblemished by any sort of irregularity as the night sky of Kerwan under the neon lights of the shopping district.

It came as no surprise to anyone that Nefarious was the first to speak up. “You sure you didn’t screw up the coordinates, squishy?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. They were headed in this direction, so there must be _something_ out here,” the Lombax said.

They continued forward in silence, though Ratchet was hardly certain they were even moving at all when there was absolutely nothing to mark their progress by, save for Aphelion’s claims that the distance between them and their destination was decreasing, and he began to wonder if she was mistaken. For once, he almost wished someone would speak, _anyone_ , but he, too, felt reluctant to break the noiseless hours in order to point this out. There was something wrong about this place. Space was empty, but never _this_ empty.

“Hey, Lombax.”

Ratchet sighed. “What is it _now_ , Nefarious?”

“We’re heading towards a black hole. What _else_ could have swallowed up all the stars?”

“Yeah, I really doubt it,” Ratchet said, though he detected a quiver in his voice he hoped no one else noticed. “I mean, if it had sucked up all the stars, how come it hasn’t gotten _us_ yet?”

“You better _hope_ it hasn’t,” was the scientist’s reply, “because otherwise, we would have entered the event horizon hours ago, and I don’t think even your fancy Lombax ship could escape from that.” Nefarious shook his head. “Of course, something this powerful would’ve burned itself out _eventually_.”

Ratchet stared at him. “So…we’re fine, then.”

“No, you twit! It’s probably still there, just smaller. And it will be impossible to see because there’s no longer any light for it to draw to itself.”

“So…we’re _not_ fine.”

The supervillain clutched his oversized head in both hands. “Do you really not get it? Let’s just turn back before we get pulled apart into a trillion tiny pieces! Then, maybe _I_ need to enter the coordinates this time so you stop messing it up!”

“I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself! And what do _you_ know anyway? Don’t you make Lawrence fly you everywhere?”

For once, the supervillain was at a loss for words, if only temporarily, and his silence was only broken when he uttered a simple, “No…”

“Really? You don’t sound too sure about that.”

“Let’s just turn—”

“Let’s not!” Ratchet said and settled back into his seat with a grin. To properly deal with a supervillain, you didn’t always need overpowered weapons and ingenious battle plans. Sometimes, you just needed to be able to yell louder.

They all jumped in their seats when an even louder voice filled the cramped space. “Oh, my gosh, you guys!” Ophelia said as her gaze darted about in a panic. “Did you see that?”

“What? What is it?” Ratchet asked.

She thrust out one arm to point, and Ratchet’s eyes widened as he, along with everyone else, strained to see just what had her so mortified.

“What? I don’t-I don’t see any-” he was cut off by the sound of sniggering and turned back to Ophelia with narrowing eyes as she snorted and chuckled into her hand with quaking shoulders. “That wasn’t funny!”

“Ophelia,” Clank began, “you must not startle us like that. What if we truly _are_ in danger one of these days, and we do not take you seriously?”

“ _This_ is why squishies are morons,” was the only contribution to the conversation Nefarious could muster up, though his voice lacked any real conviction. In fact, the intensity at which he continued to stare into the darkness outside suggested his focus was on something else.

“Oh, come on, you’re all a bunch of babies!” Ophelia said. “I thought you were supposed to be brave!” She began to giggle once more, only for her fit to come to an end when she laced her fingers together. “But, seriously, though. How _would_ we know if we ran into one?”

“When we _die_ ,” Nefarious said, deadpan.

Lawrence sighed. “If only.”

Ratchet threw his hands into the air. “You know what, enough of this talk! There is _no_ black hole!”

“Why not?” the scientist asked. “You’re an expert on black holes now?”

“Are _you_?”

“More than _you_ , I’m sure.”

“You two are certainly getting somewhere with this conversation,” Lawrence said and covered his mouth in the parody of a yawn.

Ratchet’s jaw clamped shut before he could continue the argument any further. You knew the situation was getting serious when your nemesis’ sidekick was the only one making sense anymore. “Let’s just stop talking, okay?” the Lombax began as he rubbed his temple with one hand. “As much as I’d _love_ to see you get sucked into a black hole, Nefarious—”

“You wanna repeat that, squishy?”

“-I just don’t think I’m going to have such luck, so—”

“Ratchet, I believe Dr. Nefarious is right,” Clank said.

“You see, fellow robots get it!”

“You’re _not_ a robot anymore!”

“Ratchet,” Clank repeated and pointed out the windscreen.

They all turned as one to follow the small robot’s gaze, and the sight that met them made Ratchet’s heart skip a beat. For the first time in hours, something had broken the otherwise monotonous blackness that had encompassed them, a stray comet spiraling about a distant pinpoint so slowly that it appeared frozen in time. Its tail looped several times about itself as it was stretched impossibly long and thin as its very molecules were stripped by the massive force of the object that could only be witnessed, but not seen.

“ _That’s_ how you see a black hole…” Ophelia turned to Nefarious. “I believed you all along.”

Ratchet brought Aphelion to a halt, and they all watched in the heavy silence that followed the dying comet’s final moments, though these moments did not end within their viewing of it, as if even time itself had been lengthened and slowed at the black hole’s center. Once he could stand the sight no longer, he steered the ship back the way they had come without a hint of protest.

No one spoke for the longest time, and in that silence, Ratchet’s thoughts meandered without meaning to back to distant days spent on Veldin, when he would stare up at the night sky and point out the shooting stars to no one but himself. Sometimes he would imagine the places the comet had been, and where it was going, as if it was an ancient and all-knowing traveler rather than a mindless hunk of space rock.

That comet, he would tell the night sky as he adjusted the arms he had folded beneath his head, had surely wandered to the most distant corners of the universe by now and had seen things in its millennium-long existence that mortal space travelers would require a thousand lifetimes to match. And then he would nod to himself and vow to be the only person to ever travel the universe as well as the comets could. No, he would do better. Just as soon as he finished his ship, he would see all that there was to see.

And while he had indeed left Veldin, just as he had promised himself he would, he found with equal parts awe and trepidation that the universe was far more vast a place than he had ever dreamed of. He would never see it all. He would never even come close.

For the comet to perish in such a manner, like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web… The universe would always be a harsh, cruel place. There was no changing that.

“So, that got us nowhere,” Ratchet said at last, receiving nods in response spawned more from pure reflex rather than answer. “What other leads do we have?”

Clank put a hand to his chin. “Well, there is always those whom this mystery person stole from, Zordoom Prison and, if my guess is correct, Big Al.”

“Al?” Ratchet asked. “What makes you think he stole from Al?”

“You see,” the little robot began, “this person obviously had a device that was capable of turning Dr. Nefarious back into an organic, and the only one I can think of who was able to invent such a device was Big Al after Metropolis was attacked with the Biobliterator. Perhaps we could question one or both of them to see if they know anything useful concerning the theft of their prison transport or anti-biobliteration ray, respectively.”

“Well, ‘stole’ _is_ a pretty strong word,” Ophelia said. “Maybe they planned on giving all that stuff back.”

“Did _you_ plan on returning those tools to the Vullards?” Ratchet asked.

She scratched one ear. “Well…if they had asked for them…”

The Lombax crossed his arms as he considered his options. “So…Zordoom Prison or Big Al, right, Clank?”

“Yes, Ratchet, that is correct.”

Ratchet shrugged. “Well, this is definitely one of the easiest decisions I’ve made in a long time. Kerwan it is, then.”

* * *

Ratchet’s grip on the ship’s yoke tightened at the repetition of the same question he had been hearing over and over again for the last hour. While it often began differently, the end result was always, inevitably, the same.

“Ratchet? Hey, Ratchet?”

Ratchet’s ears drooped. “What _is_ it, Ophelia? If you’re planning on asking me—”

“But, Ratchet, _where_ are we going again? And how long is it going to take? My back end’s sore already, and I haven’t brushed my teeth in…weeks.” She looked from side to side. “Does anyone have a toothbrush I could borrow?” There were no volunteers.

Ratchet gritted his teeth. It’s going to spread again. He knew it. “How many times do we have to go over this? We’re going to Kerwan—”

“You’re taking me to Magmos if you know what’s good for you, squishy!” Yep, he knew it.

“-to ask Al if he has any information on the person who stole his anti…anti-bio…ah, forget it! And if you don’t want to come along, I completely understand. The rescue mission’s over now, so I-I can drop you off _anywhere_ you’d like, just name it. Anywhere.”

“ _I_ don’t need to be here, either,” Nefarious said, “if you’d just take me to Magmos!”

“Sir,” Lawrence began, “if you want something, you really should be more direct about it.”

“But, I _do_ want to stay,” Ophelia said. “I want to find the person who toted Mr. Nefarious away.”

“It’s not _Mr_. Nefarious, it’s _Doctor_ , you moron! And take the hint and leave already! _I_ don’t want you here, either!”

“I-I didn’t say…I didn’t say I didn’t want her here,” Ratchet said. It was true. He didn’t _say_ it….

“Then, _I’m_ saying it!”

“Why are you always so angry!” Ophelia said.

With no other option available to him, Ratchet brought Aphelion to a sudden stop, proving Clank’s theory correct that their situation wasn’t the safest when everyone was thrown forward into the windscreen, everyone, that is, save the Lombax, who had braced himself in anticipation of this very thing.

With silence restored, he turned a stern gaze upon his comrades. At least, the ones who couldn’t behave themselves. “Ophelia, please don’t try to stab me again, but there is really no need for you to come with us. These kinds of things often have a way of getting dangerous, and I don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

“And as for you, Nefarious,” the Lombax’s voice lowered, “you got me stranded on a hostile planet in the middle of nowhere, where I was rained on and nearly got sucked into a whirlpool made of clouds. The only reason I’m looking for the person who attacked you is because they could be dangerous. But, I’m not about to be your chauffeur, and I’m _also_ not about to let you out of my sight, where you can try to do whatever new craziness you can think up. So we have two options.” Ratchet raised two fingers before him. “We can either go to Metropolis and talk to Big Al, _or_ we can go to Zordoom Prison and question the guards on the theft of their ship. And to be honest, I think the latter will be happier to see you. It’s your choice. Just don’t say Magmos to me one more time, or I’m leaving _all_ of you on the next asteroid I find. _Well_? What’ll it be?”

By now, Ratchet was breathing heavily, and even Nefarious was at a loss for words. It was only after a brief staring contest that the scientist responded with a mumbled, “Metropolis, _apparently_ …”

“What was that, I didn’t quite hear you—”

“Metropolis! If you’re going to throw a tantrum over it, I guess it’s Metropolis!”

Ratchet settled back into his seat as a satisfied grin spread across his feline features. “Good choice. Then let’s keep going.”

They started forward again, and while the Lombax could feel the stares of his companions on the side of his face, he compensated with a severe stare at the windscreen that no one dared interrupt. Once it was clear he would yell no more, muted mumblings began, but they progressed no further than that, until several more hours had passed, and Ophelia, always the curious one, dared a question.

“Hey, Ratchet?”

“ _Yeah_?”

“You sure this…Al will know anything?”

Ratchet shrugged. “I don’t know. But, it’s the only lead we have. Aside from Zordoom.”

“As if there aren’t plenty of authorities waiting to get their hands on me in Metropolis,” Nefarious told the window. “I hope you’re not setting me up, Lombax.”

Ratchet glanced over to find a questioning look on Ophelia’s face, as if she was wondering the very same thing. He had no choice. The guy was a criminal. “Well, _I_ don’t make a habit of backstabbing people.” He tried to look away, but was forced to turn back when Ophelia spoke up once again.

“Uh, Ratchet?”

“ _What_? What do you want _now_?”

“I…I know this place, uh…it’s pretty much in the direction we’re heading, I think. The natives there have some pretty good witch-doctoring skills, and I think Dr. Furious—”

“Nefarious!”

“-needs to pay them a visit. You know, before he loses a limb to a painful case of gangrene or whatever he’s got.”

“Why do people keep saying that?” Nefarious asked.

“Just wishful thinking, I suppose,” Lawrence said under his breath.

“I-I really don’t think we have time for that,” Ratchet said. “We really need to get back to Kerwan, and—”

“What’s the rush?” Ophelia asked. “It won’t take long, and they’re really good. They worked wonders on my warts.”

The Lombax cringed, his expression souring further when Nefarious spoke up again. “Absolutely not! I’m not going to any voodoo-witchcraft doctors!”

“They slap the word ‘doctor’ onto just about everything these days, don’t they, sir?” Lawrence said, twiddling his thumbs.

“At least _someone’s_ on my side for once!”

Ophelia crossed her arms and tried to do the same with her legs until she nearly knocked Clank from her lap in the process. “That’s fine, if you’re all right with only having one arm. I mean, what’s it matter when prosthetics are almost as good as the real thing?”

The Lombax almost thought he heard Nefarious whimper at this statement. “And _why_ are you so concerned about this?” Ratchet asked.

She shrugged. “I guess I’m just concerned for a fellow,” she glanced over in the scientist’s direction with a smirk, “‘squishy’. I’ve seen infections like that spread, and it’s not a pretty sight.”

Ratchet considered her with half-lidded eyes, and the two of them shared a steady stare before he turned away with a shrug. “I guess I just don’t share the same concern as you.”

“You do as she says, Lombax!” Nefarious said with a very obvious tremble in his voice. “I’d rather keep all my body parts intact!”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you decided to pick on a plant.”

“The stupid thing started it!”

“If I may,” Lawrence began, “I’d like to remind you just how…disagreeable my employer has been up until this point, and how much worse his mood can get. If he loses an arm, I mean.”

Nefarious groaned and clutched his face with both hands. “How many times do I have to tell you twits to stop talking like that!” After a brief pause, he added with a growl, “And I really didn’t like your tone just now, Lawrence!”

“My apologies, sir. I have failed to mention that, in all other circumstances, working with you has been a treat.”

The doctor sniffed. “Why, of course.”

Ratchet hung his head. “I guess we’re gonna have to make a stop, aren’t we?”

Ophelia bounced in her seat, the movement nearly enough to knock Clank from her lap. “Woo hoo, I can introduce you to more of my friends!”

“Yay,” was the Lombax’s lukewarm response. “Why do I never get to make any of the decisions around here?”

“Do not worry, Ratchet,” Clank said once he had managed to right himself. “I assure you, Kerwan is not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, and neither are we. Okay, Ophelia, where to?” Sometimes, being cast as Clank’s chauffeur in _Secret Agent Clank_ was a lot more accurate than he cared to admit.

* * *

The planet Ophelia had in mind, much to Ratchet’s dismay, turned out to be “right where she left it”, leaving him to wonder how she had managed to pinpoint its location in the impossibly large reaches of space with such ease when he often misplaced the remote to the holoscreen. His mind had begun to wander to a questionable level of suspicion as to its sentience after later finding it in the strangest of places.

And as little as he could believe that he was actually stuck flying his greatest nemesis to the doctor, this thought competed with a desperate wish that their destination was a barren desert or some frostbitten hunk of ice. The first thing that set his teeth on edge was the obvious verdant green of the place, a detail that was readily apparent even when it was still but a rather large marble ahead of them, and he chomped down on his lower lip as their rapid approach revealed it to be a planet covered in massive trees. He really didn’t think he could stand the sight of plants right now.

At least there wasn’t a hint of rain to be seen, the sky dotted with naught but a few puffs here and there that were beginning to turn orange with the earliest waning of a sun preparing to set, and Ophelia directed him to descend through a particular spot in the canopy that she assured him hid something more solid beneath. It turned out she was right, and he set Aphelion down upon the branch of an enormous tree one hundred feet in diameter, at least.

The glass dome of the cockpit slid back, Ophelia again the first to leap free, just as she had upon their arrival on her officially dubbed “Planet Myrtle”, though she apologized profusely afterward for knocking Clank from her lap in such an abrupt manner. They all followed her lead, though in a manner far more cautious than she, with Nefarious being the last to set foot outside.

“It’s so good to be home again!” Ophelia stretched her arms over her head in a long stretch as Ratchet turned his attention to the canopy high above.

“Home?” he asked. “I thought you lived with those Vullards.”

“Yeah, and I live here some of the time, too. I’ve got lots of homes. Actually—”

“No one cares about that!” Nefarious said as he marched over with little concern for the great height at which they resided. “How could there possibly be any doctors _here_?”

“You’d be surprised. Just a moment.” She cupped her hands over her mouth and proceeded to screech and caw like a cacophony of various bird calls all rolled into one. They stared in stunned silence, and Nefarious sidled up beside Ratchet with a strange covertness, his arms tucked behind his back in feigned innocence.

“No one would have to find out if you decided to just leave this wacko here,” the scientist said. “I certainly wouldn’t say anything.”

As appealing as that sounded, however, he supposed he should at least give her a chance first. Ratchet lifted one finger. “Uh, Ophelia? Ophel-hey, Ophelia, are you sure this is…doing whatever you _think_ it’s supposed to be doing?”

Just like that, she stopped and turned back to him with her eyebrows lifted high upon her brow, her expression possessing a sophisticated composure no one had any right to have after screeching like a Florana swamp owl trying to impersonate a Zanifarian sparrow. “Patience, my furry lummox.”

“It’s _Lombax_.”

“And you, too, Dr. Noggin.”

“One of these days, I’m going to smack you, squishy.”

“As long as I get to hit you back- Oh, hey, there they are!” Ophelia flung her arms open wide and began to head for the approaching wave of brown and grey striped fur summoned by her call. Sections of the mass would pop free at random intervals to reveal individual members of a tribe of rodent-like creatures just over Clank’s height, adorned in simple clothing of long, woven pine needles dyed with what was quite possibly berry juice.

Ratchet began to laugh, harder than he had in a long time, and his mirth only grew in intensity when he took notice of the horrified expression on the villain’s face beside him, until he was slapping his leg and fighting very hard to stay upright.

“No! You’ve got to be joking!” Nefarious said as he stumbled backwards a few steps. “I didn’t come here to be treated by a bunch of bipedal squirrels!”

Giving up any semblance of dignity he might have still maintained, the Lombax fell onto his back end when standing had become too difficult for him. “I’m sorry,” he began, “it’s just-it’s just been a rough month, and now you’ve brought us to a tribe of, well,” he jabbed a thumb in the scientist’s direction, “what he said.”

By now, Ophelia had nearly become lost amidst the jumble of furry creatures who were pouncing on her in excitement just as she was pulling close any she could get her hands on to snuggle with them in obvious bliss. Pausing with one of the fluffy tree-dwellers clutched in her arms, she turned back to them in confusion.

“They’re not squirrels,” she said. “They’re Sciridai. And they may be cute, but they’re wise. You judged _me_ before you had any right to, and where did _that_ get you?”

Yes, and his first impressions of her had been completely accurate. Ladies and gentleman of the court, we have exhibit A.

His laughter at last brought under control, Ratchet’s grin transformed itself into something more akin to a smirk. “Well, if you say they’re wise, I’ll just have to take your word for it.” He pushed himself to his feet and brushed off his pants. “We’ll see you later, Nefarious,” he added with a wave in the scientist’s direction.

“No! I’m not going anywhere!” the doctor said, and he attempted to retreat back into the ship’s cockpit, but Ophelia had already extricated herself from the horde of walking cotton balls to march towards him with dire purpose. Before he could get very far, she snatched him by his injured arm to drag him back in the direction of the Sciridai.

“You may be a supervillain, but you’ll treat my family with respect. The Sciridai have been around for longer than most other races, and they can teach even a so-called ‘genius’ like you a thing or two.”

“Ouch! Let go of me, you twit!”

But, for all his struggling, this only caused her to hold on tighter, and Ratchet had to withhold a chuckle over the fact that his nemesis showed so little an ability to escape from a girl dressed like a walking recycle bin. Any laughter he had thought to utter died within his throat, however, when Clank nudged his leg, and his gaze landed upon a wizened, old Scirida shuffling out from the group. She stopped before the odd pair, her hunched form balanced on a cane adorned with the shells of old nuts that clacked together when she struck the end of it upon the ground.

Even at this distance, Ratchet flinched when her gaze shot upwards, her features sharp with high cheekbones and hard, dark eyes. Even Nefarious went still under her scrutiny.

She raised a hand, her thin fingers twisted into claws with age, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse and low. “You have done many terrible things, oh, disfigured one.”

Nefarious jerked his arm free from Ophelia’s grip. “ _Excuse_ me? How is that any of your business, you—”

His outrage was cut short when Ophelia punched him in the arm, and he clutched tight his injured limb with a murderous twinge in his gaze.

“Why you—”

“Quiet.” The aged Scirida spoke but one word, but it was enough to seize the attention of everyone there, and keep it, as she swept her gaze across them all. “You all have very far to go, and not all of you will make it to the end. But then again, what I see contradicts itself. That is the problem with days that haven’t come yet.” She turned back to Nefarious. “Despite your heart, we cannot turn anyone in need away, no matter how wicked.” She lifted a hand to him. “Come.” And then the fingers curled back into a fist, and she turned away, the knowledge that her words would be obeyed a certainty.

Ophelia linked an arm through the scientist’s, an act that was clearly not welcome, however, when he made several attempts to pull free, but as before, she didn’t relent. “You heard the lady. Do as you’re told, or I’ll whack you again.”

The scientist was tugged forward as the Sciridai surrounded them on all sides to escort their guests after their elder. “No, really, I-I actually feel perfectly fine now! Just let me-Lawrence!”

“Well, I’d best be going,” the robotic butler began with a sigh. “Watch your step. I’m sure it’s a rather long way down.”

“You know, something tells me you don’t really mean that,” Ratchet said.

“However did you guess? Ta-ta,” Lawrence said with a lukewarm wave of his fingers, and then he headed off in the direction of his employer’s fading shrieks.


	11. Don’t Jump, It’s Not Worth It

Ratchet wasn’t exactly afraid of heights, but he thought it was a trait he could certainly develop as soon as he glanced over the side of the massive branch on which they were currently perched. All that had met his curious gaze was a blank, impenetrable darkness that seemed to swallow up anything that happened to dip through the soupy mist that hung a good ten feet below them, and he had stepped away from the sight just as soon as this potential danger was noted. Sure, Metropolis, too, boasted heights equally as perilous (once the length of your fall exceeded five minutes, you were doomed regardless of how much time came after), but at least the footing there felt more solid. Twice had Ratchet slipped on a loose piece of tree bark before he began to pick his steps with far more care, and he vowed to never look down again until they had left this planet far behind.

With nothing else to occupy their time, not until their comrades returned, at least (and Clank had already made it more than clear that they were not to leave otherwise), the pair decided in the wordless way of all good friends to go for a walk and take in the sights of yet another new planet that had remained wholly unknown to them until this day. If he had a bolt for every planet they had ever visited, well, quite honestly, he’d use it to buy himself a soda in the largest size available. He was pretty thirsty.

The mild exercise was more than welcome, for Ratchet’s legs had been in dire need of a good stretch after a long and cramped flight, and he mused over how strange it was that something as simple as a stroll with his best friend could have the miraculous ability to make life seem somewhat normal again after all that time spent in limbo on Planet…Myrtle. And yet, when he really got to thinking about it, it wasn’t that normal at all, considering there was no one trying to shoot, bite, or otherwise maim them. It was surprising how many planets sported such hostile alien life. It was even more surprising that you sort of got used to it after a while.

Their walk reached a temporary snag shortly after it began when they arrived at a walkway comprised of monstrous woven pine needles still attached to their respective branches. Doubtful as to its integrity, Ratchet refused to cross over until he had tested the side closest to them with one foot. Once he had confirmed the path’s ability to support at least that minor weight, Clank retreated to the security of his friend’s back before the Lombax began the slow and harrowing trek across. The walkway sagged in several places beneath their combined weight, and once his foot broke through upon reaching the midway point, he had no choice but to cross over the rest of the way on his hands and knees, regardless of how this might make him look.

They came upon a large, circular platform a short while later, where the branches of the surrounding trees had been roped together with long pine needles and other fibers to make something of much firmer construction than what they had previously been forced to brave. A relieved grin slipped over Ratchet’s face, and he took no delay in making straight for the center, where the chances of falling were the smallest. It was not until Clank spoke behind him that he thought to look up.

What met the Lombax’s gaze caused his mouth to fall open and his eyes to blink until his mind had been given a chance to process what he was seeing. Though it had not been clear mere moments ago, there was no denying they had stumbled into a Sciridai village. Delicate, round windows and doors were cut directly into the sides of the trees surrounding them at such dizzying heights, there seemed to be no practical way of reaching them, while the space between was carved with the intricate designs of birds and ivy and flowers with a precision he would have never expected from the energetic creatures. Though the little homes appeared to be empty for the time being, there was a great warmth to the place thanks to the soft glow of the windows as dusk approached, the lowering of the sun transforming the backdrop into a deep and misty blue. It never ceased to amaze him how such peaceful, sleepy civilizations could still exist in a universe that felt far too busy and rushed for its own good.

After a short tour about the village, the pair made a welcome discovery in the form of a small waterfall flowing from a gash in the side of one of the great trees. The clear water collected within a pool below where a pit had been carved to contain it, and any overflow was channeled into a narrow stream that ended when it reached the walkway’s edge. Ratchet dared not dwell too long on what came next. The cool water was slightly sweet and perfect for quenching the Lombax’s thirst, and it provided him with the added benefit of a hurried shower for his face, one of the many simple luxuries no one really appreciated until it was denied them.

The first indication the inhabitants had returned was a sudden chorus of barely restrained giggling, the source of which Ratchet discovered after he glanced upwards to catch a trio of female Sciridai, the fur behind their ears adorned with small flowers in varying bright shades, who had been watching him scrub at his large ears from a branch set directly above. They fled the scene moments later after he spluttered at them to get lost, and Clank offered a muttered and bemused apology for his failure as the Lombax’s watchman. Needless to say, that was the end of his bath.

Ratchet and Clank returned to the village center as the Sciridai began to filter back, the furry creatures chattering around them with the excitement brought about by strange visitors and the return of an old friend as they went about their final chores before nightfall, some scurrying about on all fours, while others ambled this way and that on just two. Now that he saw them in action, it took no stretch of the imagination to understand why houses dozens of yards up were no problem when they could climb vertically with as much ease as he could walk on the ground.

As foreign as he felt amidst the mass of walking cotton balls, the Sciridai merely grinned at the pair as they passed by, their hurried warmth bringing with it the curious realization that there was no hint of fear or hostility towards the strangers, despite his certainty that none of them had ever laid eyes upon a Lombax, or even a robot, for that matter. A strange calm washed over him, an uncommon feeling for one who was always traveling, always fighting, for the safety of others. Sometimes, his day almost didn’t feel complete without gunfire and a few cuts and bruises. And when they were home, relaxation didn’t come easily there, either, with the bustle of city life and all the other modern things that kept a guy busy.

In recent years, he had begun to wish that someone else could take their place. From time to time, he would muse to himself, when nothing but space surrounded them and the hum of Aphelion’s engine remained the only sound after any conversation had run its course, that once their newest mission was complete, perhaps they could spend the rest of their days in Metropolis, just a nameless starship mechanic and his robot assistant. That wish never worked out, for one reason or another, but he supposed if what they did kept beings like the Sciridai safe and oblivious to the harshness of the outside, it was well worth it.

Once he had tripped over the small creatures a few times too many, Ratchet and Clank retreated to the safety of a low branch set over the village’s central walkway in case of an unexpected fall, where the pair could continue studying the creatures from a distance. As tranquil as the evening may have been and as cool as the breeze that brushed his face felt, it was impossible to shake off the one thought that always seemed to linger in the dark recesses of his mind, always there to emerge back into the light whenever he seemed to be in danger of forgetting it.

The tiresome reminder that, like always, they had work to do. They may have been resting, but that didn’t mean the rest of the galaxy was, including the man they were looking for, but seemed no closer to finding. And yet, there was one task that weighed even more heavily on his mind. Their chances of success were slim, even more so if they weren’t prepared.

“Hey, Clank,” Ratchet began, “I think it’s about time we came up with a plan. About Nefarious, I mean. When we get to Metropolis, we’re taking him to jail, right?”

Clank nodded. “That is correct.”

“Well, any ideas on how we should go about this? Nefarious is no moron, well, he kind of is, but it’s really unlikely he won’t catch on if he hasn’t already, and he certainly isn’t going to come quietly. We’re going to need to be prepared for whatever happens.”

“I agree. In fact, I have given great consideration to the matter myself these past few days, and I think I have found a solution. I believe the best approach would be to bring the authorities to us. Or more precisely, if someone can keep an eye on him while we leave to question Big Al, we can contact the authorities and catch him unawares. At least, that is the idea.”

The Lombax massaged his forehead with the palm of one hand. “You make it sound so easy.”

“On the contrary. I am certain he will put up a fight, but if he is defenseless and with little opportunity for escape, on a planet where he is already a wanted criminal, mind you, it is only a matter of time before he is captured. In the meantime, we will merely need to keep him under control.”

Ratchet glanced down at the Sciridai, who were busy fanning the flames of a great bonfire they had just built. A morbid thought shot through him for a moment, concerning what, or who, they planned on cooking, but he tossed the notion aside as soon as it arrived. “ _Or_ we could always just leave him here with the squirrel-people.” A grin cracked over the Lombax’s face at this most brilliant of ideas, but the little robot only repaid the expression with a stern frown.

“Ratchet, we already discussed this very same matter back on…eh…our previous location. When I said that we could not leave him behind, I meant on _any_ strange planet, not only that one.”

“Yeah, but this place is actually _nice_.” He gestured at the busy little creatures laboring away below them. “Look how peaceful it is. No lightning. No killer trees. Just…great, big squirrels.” Just as long as the villain didn’t manage to brainwash them like he did the Fongoids. Then again, the thought of tolerating a good week more of the lunatic wasn’t very appealing, either. Talk about tough decisions.

Clank shook his head, as if the Lombax was actually putting up honest opposition to his idea. “Dr. Nefarious must be brought to justice. He is a dangerous criminal. In addition, he clearly exhibits signs of mental illness—”

Ratchet snorted. “Yeah, because he’s completely nuts.”

“-and if he is able to get the treatment he needs, perhaps there is a chance he will reform.”

Ratchet scratched at a developing itch on the side of his neck. He certainly hoped the insects here didn’t have the same poisonous qualities as the plants back on…you know what, he refused to call a planet Myrtle. It just wasn’t happening. “You know, I admire your optimism, Clank, I really do, but I just seriously doubt Dr. _Nefarious_ , the guy who tried to turn everyone into robots, is going to be willing to talk to a shrink. But, I guess as long as he’s confined to a straitjacket and locked in a padded cell for the rest of his life, I’m good with that, too.”

The little robot frowned. “Ratchet, I do not think you understand. I do not condone any of Dr. Nefarious’ actions, but no one becomes a criminal for no reason. Even Captain Qwark is guilty of many immoral actions.”

“Yeah, but Qwark isn’t _evil_. Just greedy and arrogant and-” His words trailed off, though certainly not for lack of something to say. “You know,” he went on, “I just don’t understand you sometimes. I mean, you even tried to convince Nefarious to become good back on Magnus. Why’d you bother?”

“I do not know.” Clank looked away to better focus on studying his feet. “Sometimes I just wish that problems could be solved without having…to kill anyone or lock them in prison for the rest of their life. That cannot be the only answer. I just thought that if I could appeal to his good side…”

Ratchet sighed. “I think that only really works if someone _has_ a good side. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be a nice idea if everyone really had some good in them, but that’s only something that happens in fiction, not in real life. Evil is evil. There will never be a good enough reason to satisfy me.”

“You are probably right.” The robot turned back to his friend and shrugged. “I suppose I have just had a lot of time to think lately.”

The Lombax chuckled. “Yeah, well, try not to burn yourself out, buddy.”

“I do not believe it is possible-oh, I see.”

Ratchet shuddered when he felt a poke on his shoulder, and he slapped the place where it had just been without thinking, his quick reflexes partly thanks to having passed a very large spider web earlier.

“Clank, did you just—” His question was answered, however, when he looked over to catch Ophelia sitting on his other side.

“Hey, Sir Fluff,” she said, her face adorned with a large, toothy grin. Even her clear joy at seeing him could only inspire a grimace in return.

“Good, are we ready to go now?” His frown increased in strength when he noted the absence of two people who, as objectionable as they were, appeared to be a requirement in their departure. “Uh…where’s Nefarious and Lawrence?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. Hey, the Sciridai are preparing a feast for tonight. I hope you’re hungry. They make the best sweet nut and orchid nectar stew.”

Ratchet’s ears straightened in alarm. “You just let them wander off? What if—”

She leaned in closer. “Where are they gonna go, huh? You said yourself that they can’t pilot your fancy pants ship, and if they take, let’s say, an unfortunate fall, problem solved.”

“But—”

She silenced him with a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

He smacked her hand away. “Ophelia—”

She sprang to her feet with little regard for their substantial height and planted her fists upon her hips. Ratchet followed suit in a far more unsteady fashion (though, frankly, he would have preferred the word “cautious” himself), if only to avoid such an angle when she wore skirts. “Don’t think about any of that nonsense! I’ve instructed the Sciridai to prepare a big party,” she stretched out her arms and swept them overhead, “in honor of their special guests. It’ll last into the night, and we’ll tell stories and sing and dance. You _do_ dance, don’t you, Ratchet?”

“ _No_!”

“Good, then I get to teach you.” She snatched him by the wrist when he attempted to back away.

“Ophelia, seriously, we gotta go!” Ratchet yelped when she jumped off the branch, yanking him down with her, where he landed on his face with a crunch he hoped was just the pine needles breaking his fall.

She tugged him to his feet just as Clank landed nearby with far more grace thanks to his heli-pack. “We’ll go in the morning!”

“But, I-I really don’t feel comfortable with a murderous lunatic and his spying butler…” Oh, crap…

She tapped the side of her nose with one finger. “Like I said, an unfortunate fall…”

“Ophelia,” Clank began, “I _do_ hope you are not planning on…pushing anyone.”

She giggled, but said no more.

* * *

Dr. Nefarious scarcely acknowledged Lawrence’s return, the first sign of a preoccupation even more intense than the scientist’s usual obsessions, for the treatment his butler had come to expect from his employer did not typically manifest itself in so silent a manner. The portly robot’s assigned task of discovering the plans of the talking hairball and his squishy-loving friend had been a successful one, but hardly necessary when the small part of the scientist that was actually listening had already confirmed they intended no less than what he had expected all along. Even once the report was over, in fact, his unnatural silence continued, his attention seemingly focused on nothing more than the celebration taking place in the distance, the whooping of those wretched, little rats echoing off the trees as they danced about their bonfire to the music of primitive drums and flutes.

Tonight, he seemed to have a great many things to mull over, in fact, if only to distract himself from the dull ache in his arm, now wrapped in bandages made from a curious kind of tree bark with the flexibility of fabric, and the biting chill of humid air once the sun’s gone down. It was the first real period of calm he had experienced in more years than he could remember, but it was an uneasy peace, for it meant he had nothing to occupy his time but idle waiting. The thought of returning to the place where he had grown up was not lacking in appeal simply because it was one of many planets that were less than friendly to the kind of person he had become.

His eyes narrowed, though not so much in his usual malice, but in silent meditation as he frowned in absent disdain at the creatures’ antics from across the large gap he had put between them. Spending half his life as an organic didn’t help him to understand their actions any better. In fact, he found them just as baffling as they were reprehensible, and he had spent many long hours wracking his brain over how they could go on without a care in the universe despite the knowledge they would inevitably age and die one day.

Ever since he had first been enlightened as to the realities of what life as an organic entailed, the very thought horrified him. Why, he had asked himself, did he go to school each day and do his homework and try his hardest to be a decent little boy if one day he would only grow into a sick, old man? They were all going to the same place in the end anyway, so what did it matter what path they took to get there?

Before the accident that had mangled him beyond all recognition and had saved him from an organic’s fate, the thought of aging had always weighed heavily within him, a guillotine’s blade perpetually hanging there in the back of his mind that he knew would one day fall without any way of stopping it. He had so much to do, and such a short lifespan in which to do it. And once it was all over, who would even remember that he had ever existed, especially when no one particularly remembered him _now_?

He had resigned himself to the idea of his eventual demise by the age of nine and had begun to plan for it accordingly. He had decided one of the many nights when he was unable to sleep that the only option that held any chance of success for someone like him was to become the greatest scientist to ever live, a monumental task indeed, for anyone whose IQ wasn’t beyond what the tests could register, at least. One day, when he was all grown up, he would accomplish things no one thought possible, and everyone would have no choice but to acknowledge him for the genius he was, even the people who picked on him and changed seats with barely-hidden grimaces whenever the class “freak” dared sit near them.

Of course, at the time, he hadn’t taken into account the fact that children were often a good deal more optimistic than their adult counterparts. That, and they were stupid. Rather, he had learned quite quickly that the realities of adulthood were even harsher than that of youth when he stumbled upon a kind of fame he had never intended on gaining. Oh, people now knew who he was, all right, but they saw him as a maniac rather than a great scientist. Leave it to squishies to scoff at anyone with a new idea. As much as he tried to make them see the truth, organic life required far too much sleep than he had time for, and when one gave in to less rest than they needed, and ate less frequently than was healthy, they got sick. He always seemed to be sick back then, even if he rarely allowed it to show on the outside. Organics were weak. They were fragile. What could he ever hope to accomplish in a body so unsuited for someone of his intellect?

This old body of his felt so foreign. He may have been born with it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. It didn’t mean it was right. The only time the universe didn’t feel backwards was when electricity flowed through his limbs rather than blood, when gears and pistons kept him going rather than a heart and lungs.

The mimicry of a cough broke the stillness, followed by Lawrence’s usual, bored drawl. “Excuse me, sir, were you listening, or am I going to have to repeat myself?”

It was only the smallest intake of breath that provided any indication that Nefarious had been tugged from some secret reverie. His tired gaze searched about for the source of the noise until his attention had landed on his butler and it had registered to him that he could be the only one who had spoken. “I heard you, Lawrence,” the scientist said, his focus slipping back to the scene before him as he went on, “I _knew_ this was going to happen. Didn’t I tell you?”

Lawrence glanced back over his shoulder in the direction that seemed to hold his employer so captivated, as if checking for certain he wasn’t missing anything. He turned back once it was confirmed he wasn’t. “I understood your reservations, sir, the first dozen times you told them to me. But, we’re free now, aren’t we? That has to at least count for _something_.”

Nefarious snorted and crossed his arms. “Oh, that’s _wonderful_ , Lawrence. I get rescued from a little bit of rain and some ill-tempered plants, only to be led by the hand right to Zordoom. Then what? Oh, I know, maybe you can send the entire prison, myself included, straight into a black hole!”

“I’d like to avoid that, if possible, sir.”

The scientist’s response came in the form of incoherent grumbling that, had anyone been able to decipher it, surely contained nothing pleasant. When his gaze inevitably wandered back over to the celebration, he was just in time to catch the Lombax being spun bodily through the crowd by their obnoxious new, female companion. Once the absurdity of what he had just witnessed had worn off enough for speech, he said, “I can’t believe those morons are actually wasting their time with a party, of all things.”

Lawrence shook his head in disapproval. “Young people these days.”

Nefarious’ eyes narrowed, and his fingers tightened until they dug into his arms. “What’s stopping me from killing them _now_ , Lawrence?”

His butler arched a single eyebrow. “The squirrels, sir?”

“Don’t you _dare_ play dumb with me, Lawrence,” the supervillain said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “I am seriously in the mood for _annihilating_ someone right now, and believe me when I say you shouldn’t be feeling too safe at the moment.”

When the venom in the scientist’s eyes failed to soften, Lawrence took the slightest of steps backwards. “Well, as long as I’m not _too_ high on your list, I suppose there is _nothing_ stopping you, sir—”

The ghost of a smile passed over the villain’s lips, and when he spoke, his words were of an uncharacteristic softness, “Splendid, then I’ll just—”

“-except…” Lawrence lifted a tentative finger as he continued, which he dropped once the doctor’s attention fell upon him once more, “except for the fact that the only ship here is as close to being sentient as they come, and you look nothing like a Lombax.” He tapped the ends of his fingers together. “But, you do make a good point. It would be far better to become stranded here than to be taken to prison, so I agree that this will make for an excellent compromise.” The butler folded his hands over his stomach. “Sir.”

Nefarious dropped his hands to his sides, a temporary delay as he contemplated how annihilation could still remain a feasible option. “Then…I could reprogram the ship.”

“If you say so, sir. I’m sure the squirrels must have some satisfactory wooden tools lying around here _somewhere_.”

The villain remained silent a moment longer, and when no other idea came to mind, he stomped one foot with a fraction of his usual energy. “Why do you have to ruin everything, Lawrence?”

“I do it for your own benefit, sir,” the robot replied. After turning his usual disinterested gaze upon the celebration and confirming that the Lombax was still being mistaken for a ragdoll rather than a living thing with bones, he went on, “I understand why you’re in a hurry to leave, but seeing as that doesn’t appear to be an option right now, perhaps it would help to get your mind off things if you joined them. It certainly has to be better than loitering about in the shadows.”

The doctor’s eyes grew wide at the suggestion. “Are you serious? I’m not going over there!”

“If you’re feeling shy, sir, don’t forget that those Sciridai, or whatever they were called, did seem to like you.”

Nefarious stared at him. “They tried to draw on my head.”

“And this seemed to please them to no end. Well done, sir. You’ve made some tree-dwelling rodents very happy. All the more reason why staying here wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after all. That is to say, if you still plan on going through with your urge to ‘annihilate’ Ratchet and Clank, I mean.”

The scientist rolled his eyes. “Just forget it, Lawrence! I don’t need you anyway!” With that, he turned on his heel to march away in the first direction that came to mind, regardless of the destination.

“Sir, I was only joking. At least get something to eat. You’ve been looking even thinner than usual these days.”

“This conversation’s ov-aaaah!” Just like that, the scientist was lost from view. Lawrence remained staring at the spot where he had vanished for several moments longer until, with an exasperated shrug, he strode forward to peer over the side of the great tree branch on which only one of them currently remained.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“Lawrence, help me up!” Dr. Nefarious struggled in the massive spider web he had fallen into. As long as its occupant wasn’t at home, he was fortunate it had been there to break what could have potentially been a very long and boring fall. “Quickly!”

“I thought you said you didn’t need me, so I’m not entirely certain whom you’re talking to.”

“Don’t test me, Lawrence!” The scientist squirmed further as his butler looked on in unconcerned boredom.

“One moment, sir,” Lawrence said with a sigh as he looked about for something that could aid in his rescue effort. “And do try to stay still. I believe spiders respond to movement.” His warning was only heeded for the first several seconds after it was issued, for as soon as his butler had disappeared from his line of sight, Nefarious resumed his earlier shrieking, though with an increased urgency when he claimed something had moved over to his left.

The portly robot returned a few moments later with a long pine needle, which he proceeded to lower down in no particular hurry despite his employer’s insistence that his death was imminent. At least the scientist’s struggling had the benefit of freeing one of his arms, and he clutched the makeshift rope in his single, free hand as Lawrence began to pull him upwards. Any progress was halted, however, when the sticky silk continued to cling to him, and it was only thanks to several more tugs that the web finally released its victim with an audible twang.

Once his freedom had been regained, Nefarious remained on his hands and knees on the safety of the tree branch, panting far more than seemed necessary after an incident which could have quite possibly been worse for his pride than anything else. When he finally stood, his balance was shaky, and he clutched his oversized head in both hands as if he had suddenly been struck with a bad headache.

“I hate this place,” Nefarious said. “I just want to go to Magmos and get my body back.” Though his words were muffled, that was not enough to account for how weary his voice sounded. When he removed his hands, his eyes looked just as tired, if not more so. “I’m sick of being a useless squishy, Lawrence. This is hardly even me anymore.”

Lawrence stared at him, his usually impassive expression making way for a perplexed frown. “Sir, if I may, you’re still the same heartless villain you’ve always been. Regardless of Ratchet and Clank’s plans, I’m certain we’ll be able to find _some_ way of returning to Magmos.” He turned to watch as his employer strode by him in slow, aimless steps that seemed to fulfill no other purpose but the need for restless movement. “If anything, we can always rely on the Galactic Rangers’ incompetence to allow us to escape once we reach Kerwan.”

Nefarious sighed. “If I was still made of metal, rather than feeble flesh and bone, then maybe I’d be able to share your confidence.”

The squat butler took a few steps closer. “If it makes you feel any better, sir, at least in this form, it’s less likely anyone will recognize you.”

The scientist stopped in his tracks, his response delayed by a heavy silence whose purpose for existing could have been anything but a lack of something to say. When the doctor turned back, a glimmer of that old villainous spark was present in his eyes, and his thin face was twisted with a crooked smirk. He rubbed the palms of his hands together. “You know, you’ve actually given me the most brilliant idea, Lawrence,” he said with a hiss.

Lawrence blinked at him. “I have, sir?”

Nefarious chuckled. “Oh, yes. In fact, I believe this little detour will prove to be most beneficial. And once I’ve completed my ingenious plan, we’ll steal the first ship we find and be off to Magmos. If that flea-bitten squishy thinks he’s going to outsmart me, he’s got another thing coming.”

He supposed his return to Magmos could be delayed, after all. For the right cause.


	12. I Think I’ve Lost My Appetite

Ratchet never would’ve guessed it, but squirrels could really party. If party was the correct word for it, as he woke up the next morning feeling as if he had been dismembered and then stitched back together again. Well, _that_ was actually thanks to Ophelia, who considered dancing to be something _he_ was far more apt to dub as physical violence. She also really enjoyed twirling. He was just surprised he hadn’t thrown up. Or had he? The whole ordeal was rather fuzzy.

The Lombax’s eyes fluttered open. It could be any number of things that had woken him, a misty sunrise filtering through the morning fog, the damp chill, or the weight on his back. As far as he could tell, he was lying sprawled on his stomach on one of the massive tree branches. As for the weight, he hadn’t a clue.

Whatever it was, it wobbled when he shifted. Ratchet groaned. “Ophelia? Ophelia, is that you? Get off me, okay?” No, _not_ okay, but he didn’t have the energy to be more forceful.

Something tittered at him, and he struggled twice as hard as before to get up, an impossible task indeed when this very same something was also trying very hard to keep him pinned down. Realizing that standing up was futile in his current predicament, he twisted his head about and caught grey fur out of the corner of his eye.

“Seriously, get the heck off me!”

The Sciridai wailed in laughter before leaping off him and bounding away up a nearby tree trunk. Once it had reached what it believed to be a safe height, it stopped to cackle at him. Ratchet bit down hard on his lower lip and had to resist the urge to pull out a blaster and show the thing just how funny this all was.

The Lombax rose to his feet, grumbling as he brushed himself off, and he looked up when his large ears picked up the soft, metallic footsteps of his approaching friend. Even the little robot looked tired.

“Good morning, Ratchet,” Clank said with drooping eyelids and paused as if he was considering a yawn. “How are you faring? Ophelia was a little…wild last night.”

“Wild’s not the word for it. More like psycho. Where is she anyway?”

“I believe she is having breakfast with the Sciridai. She wanted you to come, but I managed to convince her not to wake you.”

“Thanks.” Ratchet rubbed an aching head. “She’d better hurry up because we’re leaving soon. I just hope Nefarious and his lackey aren’t up to anything.”

Clank followed his friend as the Lombax headed off in the direction of the ship. “Speaking of Dr. Nefarious, I do not recall seeing him _or_ Lawrence last night.”

“Maybe Ophelia made good on her threat to push them.” After what he had suffered through last night, he deserved at least _that_ much. Better yet, maybe the supervillain had taken her down with him…

“Ratchet, that is terrible!”

“I didn’t say I _hope_ she did,” even though he did, “I’m just saying that’s what _might_ have happened.” Which he really hoped.

When they arrived back at Aphelion, Lawrence was in the middle of polishing her hull with a cloth. Even when they stopped nearby to watch the robot with barely-veiled curiosity, he went on as before, as if there was really nothing weird about this at all.

“Lawrence, we appreciate the effort,” Clank began, “but that is really not necessary.”

“Oh, so I’m doing this for _you_ , am I?” the butler asked, not once glancing their way. “That’s certainly good to know.”

Ratchet shook his head. “Well, where’s—”

Before he could continue, Lawrence shushed him and pointed to the ship’s cockpit. A sly grin slid across Ratchet’s feline features, and he strode forward with a casual innocence Lawrence’s frown and narrowing optics was clearly not buying. Before anyone could protest further, he opened the cockpit and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Nefarious, wake up! The authorities are here! You better run!”

Just like that, Dr. Nefarious shot into view. Before even giving himself a chance to confirm these words, he attempted to flee the ship, only to get his leg caught, causing him to fall face first out of the cockpit with a yell. The supervillain’s escape attempt only ended when he caught the sound of sniggering and turned to leer up at the Lombax from crooked goggles. “That’s not funny, you twit!”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree.” Ignoring the exasperation both robots were now directing at him, Ratchet continued, “Once Ophelia bothers to show up, we’re getting out of here and heading to Kerwan. If you have any complaints, get them out now because I don’t—”

“Fine, fine, whatever!” The scientist stood, brushing himself off with exaggerated movements before straightening his goggles. “If she doesn’t show up soon, I say we leave without her. Better yet, we should leave while she’s running to catch up with us.”

“Well, if you can get Clank on board with the idea, I’m all for it.”

“Ratchet!”

“But, that’s it?” the Lombax continued with slanted eyebrows, “No more complaints? I thought you were desperate to get the Magmos.”

“I _do_ want to go to Magmos,” Nefarious said, “but I’m _cooperating_ with you now. Do you really want to push it?”

He didn’t, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have his suspicions. Ophelia arrived a short while later, with the disappointment at this fact being veiled better in some than in others. As expected, the scientist’s usual gripes about what thus far seemed to be everything in existence returned before the planet was even lost to sight behind them. The only difference was that this time, his topic of dismay was not one Ratchet disagreed with.

Their one female companion on this little adventure had decided it was a great idea to bring along an egg dish wrapped in leaves. The egg in question was so pungent, in fact, that Nefarious swore he was going to be sick. In his defense, the scientist _was_ looking slightly greener than usual. And while Ratchet remained silent on the matter, having only picked at the food provided last night, his grumbling stomach wasn’t getting along too well with the odor, either. The only reason he had managed thus far to keep up his current politeness was because he didn’t trust what might happen if he opened his mouth.

Eventually, Lawrence made a comment where the keywords involved “calories” and “hips”, which invoked a great deal of cackling from Nefarious once he had comprehended the meaning behind his butler’s words. Ophelia, on the other hand, had no trouble catching on, resulting in the smell being prolonged when she refused to eat another bite of it. Ironically enough, this only spurred a joint effort to ensure that she finished every last crumb. Ratchet just worried that she’d get the wrong idea when he had to resort to flattery to get her to finish her breakfast. He had never regretted complimenting a woman so much before, and she didn’t seem to notice he was cringing each time she glanced over to grin at him.

Once the aggravation over Ophelia’s foul-smelling snack had died down, Ratchet’s thoughts had a chance to settle on two things in particular, the black hole the coordinates had led them to and Dr. Nefarious’ new silence. There was something off, about both of them. While he couldn’t say what unsettled him so about the former, it was easy to understand his problem with the latter. Every time he glanced over, the supervillain was staring out the windshield with crossed arms and a calmness that didn’t suit him. For a guy with no comprehension of the phrase “indoor voice”, any silence could only mean that the scientist was up to something. Then again, wasn’t he always?

After several silent hours, they began to venture back into sections of the galaxy that were more familiar, and more traveled. The resulting increase in traffic threw Nefarious into a fit over every ship they encountered until they had been identified as no more than passenger ships or cargo freighters. Any transports that were more questionable Ratchet avoided out of numb obedience, if only to get the scientist to shut up and to prevent a blaster shot to the head at close range. He just wished there was a practical way to disarm him without starting an argument he wouldn’t win anyway. It was the same reason parents let their children stay up late or eat too much candy, even if they knew they’d regret it later.

Ratchet released a relieved sigh when Kerwan came into view in the distance, but the feeling quickly melted away when he recalled their purpose for being here. Metropolis might have been their home, but it was difficult to find that comfort home should inspire when you knew you wouldn’t be staying long enough for it to _feel_ like home. They were here for business, nothing more.

Ratchet tensed as they drew ever closer, and his heart began to pound. Why _was_ Nefarious being so cooperative? Why was he so quiet, when even Ophelia fidgeted in her seat and questioned why they had to come here, when she had no suggestions for anywhere else that might aid in their mission? He had to be on the alert, and frankly, he wasn’t as prepared as he would’ve liked. When you were working with your enemy rather than fighting him, it really narrowed down your available options.

He set Aphelion down in the most secluded spot he could find in the vicinity of Big Al’s Roboshack, in a forgotten alley of the mile-high streets of Metropolis where no one had need to wander.

“Well,” the Lombax began, giving the yoke a procrastinating pat with one hand, “we’ll just, uh, head over to Al and see what we can find. Just…wait here. All right?”

“Me, too?” Ophelia pointed to herself.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Wait a minute,” Nefarious began, “I don’t want to be stuck here with her. _You_ take her.”

“No, really, I think it would be best if—”

“It’s good to know you’re all fighting to be in my company,” Ophelia said with a thoroughly unamused frown.

“At least people are aware of _your_ existence,” Lawrence said.

“If I may,” Clank began, “Ophelia, we will not be long, and we believe it will be best if you remained here and, well, kept an eye on…Dr. Nefarious.”

Nefarious huffed. “What do you morons think I’m going to _do_?”

“That’s the problem.” Ratchet opened the cockpit. “We don’t know, and we don’t want to find out.” He leapt clear as Clank worked to free himself from Ophelia’s lap. “Stay out of trouble, all right?”

Ophelia saluted him with the sternness of a ridiculous-looking general. “I’ll make sure these two behave themselves. Nothing gets past my eagle-eye.”

The Lombax directed a lukewarm thumbs-up, paired with an even lukewarmer grin, her way as Clank and he headed off towards the streets more commonly used by those who lacked the need to hide in the shadows.

Ratchet allowed a single glance more over his shoulder and shook his head. “Something tells me this is going to end in disaster.”

* * *

Dr. Nefarious couldn’t comprehend why his murderous glare didn’t seem to be having any effect on the-whatever-she-was called Ophelia. In fact, his obvious lack of amusement at being forced to be in her company without even the rodent and his pet thermos as a buffer, both of whom didn’t seem so bad in comparison, as they disliked him almost as much as he hated them, only seemed to make her more determined than ever to strike up a conversation with him.

“So…” she tried for the umpteenth time in what was proving to be a very long ten minutes, her hands folded in her lap with a patience that said this surely wouldn’t be her last attempt, “any pets? I tried to make one out of a Sciridai once, but they found it offensive.”

Despite trying very hard to ignore her so that he could better focus on his escape plan, he couldn’t help but allow his thoughts to be interrupted once more as he responded to her query with a snort, “Are you serious? You get the opportunity to meet the greatest genius in the entire universe, and _that’s_ all you can come up with? What’s next, you’re gonna ask me my favorite color?”

She laughed. “No, that would be a silly question. Based on your clothing, it must be purple. Even though, I thought that was a strictly feminine color choice. You could have _at least_ picked a prettier shade, you know.”

“What?” Nefarious grabbed the fabric of his villainous attire in both hands so that he could have a better look at it. “I’m not wearing purple!”

“I told him it was a rather odd choice,” Lawrence said, “but he doesn’t listen to me.”

“Well, I suppose purple and green _do_ go well together.”

“Really? Those colors only remind me of an eggplant.”

Nefarious growled and struck the seat on either side of him with his fists. “Quit talking about me! I’m not on display!”

“I prefer red anyway,” Ophelia said and fluffed up her crimson puff of hair with one hand. “So…” she went on, “I’ve been meaning to ask, you’re supposed to be smart, right?”

“Well, ‘smart’ is such a subjective word…” Lawrence began with a feigned yawn.

“I said _supposed_ to be.”

Nefarious rolled his eyes, well aware that he’d best respond before the two started gossiping about him again. They had already done so on more than one occasion, including all throughout their entire flight to the planet of the aggravating squirrels. He did not appreciate his butler revealing to the entire group that he still retained a gag reflex even as a robot.

“What kind of idiotic question is that?” the scientist asked. “Of course, I am! I’m-”

“Is that why your head’s so big?”

“-the greatest genius in the entire galaxy, and…” Anything else he had meant to say became wholly forgotten when Nefarious stopped to blink several times in growing revelation of this newest insult. It was not one he hadn’t heard before, certainly not; he had just held on to the hope that the days of high school were long gone. This was one of the few, exceedingly rare, instances when the scientist’s judgement was actually wrong and proof that he could benefit from becoming even more cynical than he already was. “When is the universe going to stop with this perverse fascination with the size of my head? Lawrence, strangle her for me, will ya?” he said with a flip of his hand. “I’m absolutely _not_ in the mood to waste my energy on this twit!”

The robotic butler fixed him in a long and unreadable stare as the scientist continued to hyperventilate before making a slow turn to the woman sitting beside him. “Do you mind?”

Ophelia sniggered, her amusement ending a moment later when she sucked in any further laughter in favor of sitting up straighter and fixing her jaw into an expression far more serious. “I’d really rather you didn’t.”

Lawrence turned back to his employer. “As much as I’d like to obey your command, sir, she refused my offer to strangle her. Will an apology do?”

“I’m sorry, Nefarious!” Ophelia yelled over the portly robot in such an abrupt manner that the scientist started in his seat at her sudden increase in volume. “Your head is absolutely lovely!”

Heartfelt apology or no, Nefarious couldn’t help but scream. “I can’t take it in here one second longer! I’m leaving _now_!” He lunged for the dashboard, but before he could open the cockpit, Ophelia landed a stinging blow to his outstretched hand.

“Uh-uh, mister,” Ophelia said, hand still held at the ready. “You’re not going anywhere!”

“You hit me again,” Nefarious began in a dangerous growl, “and I’ll _drag_ you to the edge of that walkway over there,” he thrust an aggravated finger in the direction of the walkway in question, “and _push_ you off!”

She cast a glance at the nearest sudden drop, of which there were many in the lofty heights of Metropolis, her eyes half-lidded. “That’s a pretty good distance to drag someone. And even if you _did_ manage it with all my kicking and flailing, I’d just pull you down with me. So…no offense, but that doesn’t sound like your best-”

Nefarious reached for the controls again, but without missing a beat, she whacked him twice as hard as before, and he hissed in pain. “Would you knock it off? I’m not going to be held hostage by a squishy! I’ve had enough of being squeezed and poked and sat on in this pathetic excuse for a ship, and I just want to get out and take a walk. What harm could there possibly be in _that_?”

Ophelia shook her head. “No can do. I promised Ratchet I’d keep an eye on you, so I’m doing it! So you behave yourself!” She clapped her hands together. “Right, so back to the topic of your supposed intelligence-”

Nefarious groaned and slouched in his seat.

“-I was just wondering if you could build anything. And I don’t just mean like those times when you buy a bookcase from the store, and you gotta put it together yourself, and you swear three screws is not going to be enough for the job.”

The scientist glanced over at her out of the corner of one eye when a prolonged silence indicated that she had finished. “Can you repeat the question?” he said once he had failed to piece together some meaning from her rambling. The lazy tone in which he uttered these words was making him distinctly aware of how sleep-deprived he had been feeling lately. In fact, he was in very real danger of falling asleep right now if he didn’t find a way out of his predicament. And soon.

“I mean, can you build _anything_? Like, crazy stuff.”

“Crazy stuff…” he repeated.

She bobbed her head. “Yeah. Like gadgets that could…destroy an entire planet or…turn back time or…turn cats into dogs and vice versa. Just…really amazing stuff no normal person could do.”

Nefarious used his butler for support in pulling himself upright in his seat again. “And _why_ would you want to know about any of that?”

She shrugged. “No reason. I just…wanted to know if the rumors about you were true.” She stared expectantly at him, arching an eyebrow when he failed to answer.

“I once built a machine that could turn squishies into robots. Is that,” he made quotes in the air with his fingers, “‘crazy’ enough for you?”

She nodded, a strange grin pulling at one corner of her lips. “Yeah, that works. I guess…I just never met a real supervillain before. Now I just need to meet a superhero. Do you think any superheroes can really fly-ooh, wait a minute, if there are any avian superheroes out there, they can _certainly_ fly! Silly me!”

Speaking of superheroes… Nefarious continued to eye the woman in suspicion when Lawrence leaned over and whispered something in his ear. The scientist’s eyes widened. “I’m not going to say that, Lawrence!”

“Say what?” Ophelia asked.

“Nothing!”

She turned away with an exaggerated shrug, an obvious grin still plastered on her face, and he resumed his earlier cryptic conversation with the robot beside him. “ _You_ say it, Lawrence!”

His butler eyed him with arched eyebrows. “It would hardly make sense if _I_ said it, sir.”

“Well, I don’t-”

“Say _what_?” she repeated. “What are you two nuts talking about?”

The supervillain stared at her before directing a resentful gaze at his butler for even suggesting such a thing. But, it seemed he was left with no other options, and he uttered under his breath a shaky, “The bathroom.”

“Huh?” She leaned in closer. “You’re gonna have to speak up.”

“The-I…” Why must he resort to such humiliation when he could just annihilate her? He took a deep breath. “I…I have to…”

She blinked at him. “ _Yeah_ …”

He hung his head and told the floor, “I need to find a bathroom.” He’d annihilate Lawrence for this, as well.

The woman laughed. “Oh, is that all? Yeah, sure, get out of here. Eww.” She opened the cockpit and, with a wave of her hand, added a final, “Off with you.”

His escape was delayed by the very disbelief that his butler’s moronic plan had actually worked, and then he was stumbling free with doubled speed to make up for it as Lawrence followed close behind.

“Wait a minute, why’s he need to go with you?” she asked, but the scientist could think of no answer that wouldn’t just make things worse and remained silent until he had ducked around the nearest corner.

“Why do you have to come up with ideas like that, Lawrence?” Nefarious asked.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, sir,” Lawrence said. “To my understanding, all of your kind-”

“Just forget it! It’s time we got to my delightfully simple, yet equally diabolical, plan.”

“The one where you walk up to Captain Qwark’s condo and, as you put it, ‘shoot him in the face’? Why, only you could’ve thought up such a gem, sir.”

The scientist chuckled. “I know, Lawrence. I surprise even myself sometimes.” He steepled his fingers in the sinister way of all proper villains as he continued, “When else will I get the chance to stride right up to my nemesis’ own home without fear of being recognized?”

“And to think,” Lawrence folded his hands over his stomach, “ all those times you lamented that no one took you seriously before you became a robot turned out to be a blessing.”

“Yes, of-” the scientist paused, his brows furrowing in thought. “ _When_ did I ever say that?”

“Never mind, sir. It must have been someone else. Carry on.”

Nefarious cleared his throat. “Yes, well, as I was saying, we mustn’t waste any time. That flea-ridden squishy will surely alert the authorities to my presence any time now, if he hasn’t already, and I want Qwark annihilated and us off this planet before they can even start looking.” He spun on his heel and attempted to dart off, only to be halted by a question from his servant.

“But, sir, if I may…”

The scientist turned back, planting his hands on his waist as he got to tapping one foot. “Yes, Lawrence, what is it? And make it quick!”

“There may be _some_ people that know what you looked like before your transformation. Not to mention, I’ve gotten dragged right with you to the top of the most wanted list, and _I_ look the same as I always have. I do hope you’ll be careful, sir.”

Nefarious snorted, a far easier thing now that he had a proper nose again. “Who’s going to recognize _you_ , Lawrence?” He swept an arm at the robot before heading off down the nearest alley. “Come on. As long as we stay away from the crowds, we’ll be fine!”

Lawrence sighed. “I certainly hope so.”

Of course, avoiding the crowds in a crowded city was far easier said than done, and remaining undetected in these very same crowds proved even more challenging when your party consisted of a lanky Kerwanoid with, dare he admit it, an oversized cranium, and a posh robot who looked as if he could fall asleep from sheer boredom, had it been a thing robots typically did. The task grew harder still when you looked completely lost.

“Are you _certain_ you know where Captain Qwark’s condo is, sir?” Lawrence asked once the scientist’s pace had slowed to a speed indicating far less purpose than earlier.

Nefarious stopped to scan the buildings that extended far above. “Of course, I do, Lawrence,” he said, though he continued to direct a blank frown at the windows high above them.

He already knew the buffoon’s address, after all, thanks to a simple search he had made on the holonet one slow afternoon after he had completed the first of a new kind of missile that released liquid nitrogen upon impact and realized he had nothing to test it out on. The information he sought turned out to be readily available on Qwark’s own personal blog, where the superhero had provided the address to send fan mail and gift baskets. In fact, the supervillain had set out for the fraudulent superhero’s abode that very same evening, and he _would_ have blown him to bits if that stupid blimp hadn’t intervened. Once his rage at having missed blew over, it was a pretty entertaining sight. He just couldn’t understand why Lawrence didn’t think to videotape it.

“It should be right over there, Lawrence.” Nefarious pointed to a tower a couple blocks away. “I’d recognize it anywhere.”

“Sir, I am quite certain that is a bank, if the words on the side are anything to go by. When last we attempted to…pay him a visit, it was in the middle of the night, and we were _above_ the city in our ship. I’d hardly think finding it now, from an entirely different vantage point, is going to be very easy.”

Nefarious crossed his arms and continued with a growl, “Fine, if you’re so smart, then where is it?”

The robotic butler looked from side to side and ended his brief search with, “I haven’t the foggiest.”

Nefarious threw his arms in the air. “Well, great, you’re a _big_ help, Lawrence!”

“Hey, you, stay right where you are!”

The scientist nearly leapt into the air at the sound of a robotic voice behind him, and he spun around to spot a robot in green armor heading his way, clearly a member of the moronic rabble called the Galactic Rangers, no less. He stepped back at the robot’s approach, fully prepared to use Lawrence as a shield if need be.

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this or not, but you look just like Dr. Nefarious from the Qwark vs. Nefarious vid comics!”

Nefarious blinked at the robot before he could force out the words, “Yeah, h-how about that?”

“I mean it, it’s uncanny. You could be his relative or something.”

“All right, I get it!”

“On second thought,” the Ranger leaned in closer, “you sound a lot like him, too….”

Lawrence stepped forward. “He’s actually recovering from an acute case of laryngitis.”

Nefarious growled. “What was that?”

“As for his appearance, you’d be surprised how common it is to have immensely oversized heads these-”

“That’s _enough_ , Law-Lauren…”

“Ah, that’s a bummer,” the Ranger said as he scratched his head. “It was just too weird not to mention. Well, I guess I gotta go. I have some more patrolling to do, ya know.”

“Great! Then go do it!”

Lawrence lifted one finger. “Oh, and one more thing. Would you happen to know where Captain Qwark lives?”

“Oh, sure!” The robot pointed to an apartment building just down the street. “He lives right over there. 72nd floor.”

“Why, thank you. You have been most helpful.”

“No problem.” The Galactic Ranger waved at them before striding off into the crowd. “Man, I used to love playing those back in the day. I wonder if anyone would notice if I took a break for a while….”

Once the Ranger was out of sight, the supervillain turned on his butler with a question that was in dire need of asking, but the robot beat him to it.

“Lauren, sir?”

“‘Immensely oversized head’, Lawrence? _Laryngitis_?”

“I was just making friendly small talk, so as not to appear suspicious, sir.”

“ _Were_ you now?"

“I was indeed,” Lawrence said with a nod. “And thanks to your ‘uncanny’ similarities to, well, yourself, we’ve learned the location of Captain Qwark’s condo. It’s already been a successful day in my book, sir.”

Nefarious stomped one foot. “It won’t be successful until Qwark’s a smoldering carcass at my feet! Now let’s get going!” With a snarl, he began to march off in the direction of the apartment building the Ranger had pointed out.

“And I do hope I didn’t hurt your feelings, sir. I’m dreadfully sorry.”

“Just drop it, Lawrence!”

They reached the towering apartment complex without further incident, and it was thanks to the long elevator ride that the scientist had a chance to cool off and try to regain the earlier glee he should be feeling at the bumbling superhero’s impending annihilation. It only occurred to him _after_ they had reached the 72nd floor that he had forgotten the number of Qwark’s condo. Though, in his defense, it would have been a little odd if he _did_ still remember it after all these years. He may’ve daydreamed quite frequently about the moron’s violent and fiery death, but he wasn’t a stalker.

As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, the scientist was stopped in his tracks at the sight of a seemingly endless row of doors stretching off on either side of them. One could get lost in a place like this. He had once, many years ago. That past self of his had almost been forced to spend the night in the hallway until his mother had come looking for him.

Like he needed the memory.

“He has quite a nice view from up here,” Lawrence said as he looked out over the railing at the sprawling city below.

Nefarious sighed and rubbed his temples with both hands. For someone with his proportions, just imagine what kind of headaches he got. “Which door could it possibly be?”

The robot glanced back over his shoulder. “I just hope he’s home.”

“Where _else_ would he be? It’s not like he has a real job or anything.”

“A _lot_ of people don’t have real jobs, sir, and yet they don’t spend the _entirety_ of their free time sitting on the couch and watching soap operas.”

“Let’s just start looking, Lawrence. He has to be _somewhere_ nearby.”

Without further delay, Dr. Nefarious strode off down the walkway to their left, while his butler fell behind as he took a far more leisurely approach to the whole searching business. At a loss for the best way to go about finding his nemesis’ place of residence, he found himself glaring at each door he passed as if it would somehow grant him the power of x-ray vision. It didn’t, go figure. He found his pace growing quicker as he passed a maddening amount of doors that only differed in their welcome mats, and he almost decided he would have no choice but to resort to pounding on each one in turn when he rounded a corner to spot a green mat with Qwark’s smiling face on it above the word, “Qwarktastic!”

The scientist retreated backwards a few paces to wave at his butler to hurry up. “Come quick, Lawrence, I found it!”

Lawrence obeyed the first half of the command, but not very quickly. Once the robot had caught up, he eyed the welcome mat with utmost disdain. “Commendable detective work, sir. Well, now that we’re here, will you be needing me for anything, or am I just supposed to watch?”

A mad chuckling began in the scientist’s throat in anticipation of what was to come, and he rubbed the palms of his gloved hands together. “No, Lawrence, you need only witness my greatest triumph. It may not be the most spectacular feat I’ve ever accomplished, but it will certainly be the most satisfying.”

“Oh, goody, I get to stand here.”

Clearing his throat and drawing himself up like a maestro ready to conduct his greatest symphony yet, Dr. Nefarious extended a hand and rang the doorbell. Oh, yes, Captain Qwark wouldn’t see this one coming. He could already imagine what the news anchors would have to say about their precious superhero’s most anticlimactic death. How disappointing for them.

He giggled to himself, but the door didn’t open, and his amusement ebbed away in favor of frowning at the door that had so foolishly chosen to disobey him.

“I told you he wouldn’t be home, sir.”

Nefarious rolled his eyes. “Maybe he’s in the _bathroom_ , Lawrence.” He rang the doorbell again, but even now, there was no answer. With a growl, the scientist began to pound on the door with one fist, and he almost fell forward when the door opened.

“Hey, what’s the big-” The enormous form of Captain Qwark stood before them, wearing a frilly apron decorated with bipedal kittens in oven mitts over his usual green leotard. He stared dumbfounded (as if _that_ was a surprise) down at them, his mouth open in anticipation of words apparently forgotten. “Dr….Nefarious?” he finally managed to get out. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Qwark…” Nefarious began, the word drawn out to a dangerous hiss, “this has been a long time coming.”

Qwark blinked at him. “That…you visited for dinner?”

“No, you twit!” The scientist pointed an accusatory finger up at the burly superhero. “Our rivalry began in the 9th grade when you first shoved me through the ceiling tiles. For years, you’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side, defeating me despite your _unbelievable_ incompetence, and I find it an insult that a moron like you could’ve been my arch nemesis! But, you’ve meddled in my plans long enough! This is the end, Captain Qwark!”

With that, Nefarious reached for his belt, only to find that his hand met with nothing. His gaze darted downward to aid in his search, and upon further scrutiny, it was confirmed just what the problem was. His blaster was missing. “That thieving, little-”

Qwark barked out a single laugh, and Nefarious’ attention shot upwards again.

“What’s so funny! I could’ve-”

The superhero continued to chuckle as he replied, “There’s no need to act all villainous with me, Nefarious, old pal. I know we made up back on Magnus. Come on, I’m almost done making dinner. You look like you could use it.” Turning to address Lawrence, he added, “Seriously, has he lost weight or something?”

“I suppose you could say that….”

“Wait a minute,” Nefarious began, “I-”

“No, really, I insist.” Captain Qwark grabbed the supervillain by the arm and tugged him inside. With a shake of his head, Lawrence made to follow, but not before he had wiped his feet on the welcome mat.

Qwark’s home was small inside. And it smelled like ham. Rubbing at his abused arm, Nefarious aimed a poisonous glare in the direction of the kitchen, or more precisely, the beefy moron who was currently crouched in front of the oven to get a better look inside.

“It’s almost done!” the superhero told them over his shoulder as he clapped his oven mitt-wearing hands together.

And yet, Nefarious, on the other hand, was just not feeling the same excitement over whatever horrible ham-containing concoction was currently baking in his ingenious presence. He remained silent as he eyed some macaroni art on the fridge, even though he was certain the moron did not have children. Now that was a horrifying thought.

“You really must do away with these dark curtains,” Lawrence said as he felt the fabric between the tips of his fingers. “You have such a nice view of the city from up here, but you wouldn’t know it with these things.”

Qwark attempted to scratch his head, despite the bulky mitt still on his hand. “You think so? Well, I don’t know, being such a famous, and not to mention, amazingly handsome, superhero, it would be hard to get any peace in here with crowds of adoring fans looking in, don’t you think?”

“Qwark,” Nefarious began before Lawrence could even attempt to suggest a more suitable color to paint the walls, “don’t you find it even a _little_ suspicious that your arch nemesis just showed up on your doorstep? I _have_ tried, on more than one occasion, to _kill_ you before!” He tapped his head, aware he was basing the gesture on the assumption that Qwark actually had something in his. “Remember that?”

The superhero turned away to open the fridge. “Oh, I know if it came down to it, you wouldn’t _really_ have been able to do it.”

“Is that so?” Nefarious sauntered over with his hands folded behind his back as Qwark rummaged about for something. “And you’re basing this off of _one_ time I was civil to you on Magnus, and not on all the _other_ countless times I put honest effort into _annihilating_ you!” With one swift motion, he brandished one of the nearby carving knives as his victim emerged from the fridge with a bag of potatoes.

“Thanks, I needed that.” The superhero grabbed the knife Nefarious was currently wielding in a most threatening manner over his head and tugged on it. “You know, you’re really going to need to let go of it.” Yanking it from the scientist’s grip, he set the potatoes down on the counter and added, with all three fingers held up, “And I’m basing it off of _two_ times you were nice to me.”

“I was never _nice_ to you, you stu—”

“I’m kind of embarrassed, but…” Qwark opened the oven and took out the culprit responsible for the offensive ham smell, “I make a mean quiche. And boy, am I glad you’re here.” He laughed. “If I was alone with this baby, I’d be tempted to eat the whole thing myself, and if Helga ever found out…” He shuddered.

Qwark turned away to set the quiche down on the stove, while Nefarious eyed the knife that had now been effectively placed out of reach, his fingers curled into claws that would have resorted to strangulation had the superhero not had such a thick neck. He scanned the kitchen for anything else that might be of use, and his search ended when he caught sight of a rolling pin, still dusty with flour.

“Sorry, Lawrence, I guess you won’t be able to join in, will you?” Captain Qwark asked.

“That’s quite all right,” the butler replied as he motioned for his employer to hurry up.

Nefarious cautioned one, final murderous glare back at the superhero before he grabbed the rolling pin tight in both hands. Doubtful though he was that whacking Qwark’s empty head with it would really be fatal, he supposed it was worth a shot. And yet, his most recent attempt at homicide was interrupted, as well, when the phone rang.

“Oh, for the love of-”

Qwark studied the phone for the identity of the caller, and his face lit up. “Sorry, I gotta take this. It’s one of the Galactic Rangers I met during the war. You know, the one where you tried to turn everyone into robots? Good times.” He picked up the phone. “Hey, GX-344…uh, something-something, this is CQ speaking. How’s it going?”

Returning the rolling pin back to where he had found it, Nefarious retreated to his butler’s side as Qwark sat on the counter to continue his chat. “What am I supposed to do now, Lawrence?” he said in his best rendition of a whisper, something his naturally raucous voice wasn’t well-suited for. “I can’t annihilate him while he’s on the phone!”

“Perhaps we should just leave while we can, sir. I wouldn’t be surprised if the-”

They both looked over when the superhero burst into laughter. “You’re joking! Really? What a coincidence, Dr. Nefarious is actually right here! The real one, I mean.”

Nefarious grew stiff as the superhero continued with a less than promising, “No, really, there’s no need- Huh, he hung up.” Qwark returned the phone to its charger with a puzzled frown on his face as his guests made for the door with all due haste. “Well, who’s ready for- Hey, where are you guys going? After dinner, I thought we could watch one of my movies!”

And that, frankly, was enough reason to run on its own. “This isn’t over, Qwark!” Nefarious said as he flung open the door.

“In that case,” Qwark cupped his hands around his mouth to call after the retreating supervillain, “I’ll save you some leftovers!”


	13. You Know You’re a Nerd If…

Although Big Al’s Roboshack had been greatly expanded since their initial visit a good many years prior, Ratchet couldn’t deny the strange sense of nostalgia that washed over him upon their return. He would forever associate this place with their very first adventure, and though Clank and he didn’t exactly get along back then like they did now, it was the beginning of a friendship he had never seen coming until the bond had already grown too strong to break. Their many journeys might have been difficult, but none of them were without their good memories, least of all the escapade that ended Chairman Drek’s short-lived reign of destruction throughout the Solana Galaxy. There was nothing as effective at securing the friendship of the unlikely pair as saving a galaxy from catastrophe.

Of course, just because the shop had grown larger and its inventory of robot and computer parts had been expanded to include a greater variety than ever before, that didn’t mean the owner had changed one bit. Ratchet grinned inwardly when they spotted Big Al himself behind the counter, just as he had been the day they met. In his mind, the chubby alien _belonged_ there, after all, like wings belonged on starships and planets belonged in orbit.

Big Al was currently devoting all of his geeky brainpower into tinkering with something so small on the back table, it required the microscope currently attached to his goggles to properly study it. And based on the amount of focus he displayed, it was more than likely he wasn’t even aware anyone else was present.

The pair stopped on the other side of the counter to observe a true nerd at work, something Ratchet knew better than to ask about when it would surely make him feel like a child having advanced trigonometry explained to them. Apparently, being a mechanic didn’t mean one knew everything there was to know about all things, well, mechanical. But hey, he could repair a ship like nobody’s business, so take that all you geeks who think string theory is so darn important.

When Al continued to mutter complex words under his breath, most of which were incomprehensible thanks to more than just the volume in which he said them, it became more than clear to the Lombax and robot pair that a less passive approach was necessary if they wished to gain his attention. After the two friends exchanged silent shrugs, they began a silent charade of half-felt waves and mouth opening before Ratchet decided to take it all the way and actually speak up.

“Hey, uh-” Ratchet began, but was prevented from speaking further when the yellow alien released a yelp at the sudden noise. Twirling around, Al pulled his micro-goggles to his forehead to inspect the source of the interruption through his glasses. Though, based on the thickness of the lenses, the Lombax had to wonder if they, too, boasted a similar capacity for magnification.

“Oh, it’s just you guys,” Al said and placed a hand on the counter with enough gravity that it almost seemed as if it was the sole thing holding him up. “Couldn’t you see I was in the middle of a very complex procedure? I was trying to locate a blown circuit in my prototype thermal fluctuator. It’s supposed to be a more efficient power supply for robots that uses the heat signature from atoms, but-”

The Lombax held up a hand. “Don’t waste your breath; I won’t understand anyway. The reason we’re here is we wanted to ask you-”

“Have you tried employing a boron thread for your traces?” Clank asked, one eye squinted in contemplation. “Such a material might be better suited for handling the load.”

“Of _course_ , I tried that!” Al said with a snort. “What do I look like, a printer technician?”

“That’s _exactly_ what you look like,” Ratchet said. Being contrary was the only way he could prevent himself from being pushed out of the conversation entirely.

“Sounds like _someone’s_ registry needs cleaning”, the geek said, and Clank burst into giggles at what Ratchet could only surmise was meant as a joke. About him. It was surprising how often having an absolute nerd for a friend could actually make _him_ look like the dork.

“Well,” Al continued as he rested his arms on the counter, “now that you’re here, what can I do for you? It’s not as if I was actually in the _middle_ of anything.”

The Lombax rolled his eyes. “If you’re in such a hurry, then I’ll get straight to the point. Were you, by any chance, let’s say, robbed a couple months ago?”

The chubby techie shot straight up, looking like a computer that had just caught a virus…oh, who was he kidding? He knew nothing about this kind of nonsense. He looked like a Fongoid caught in headlights. Plain and simple.

“What, no,” Al’s gaze jerked this way and that, as if there might be a spy in their midst, “who told you that? No. Why?”

A large grin spread across Ratchet’s face as he shook a finger at the nerd before him, his other hand at his hip. “You know, something tells me you’re not being entirely honest with us.”

Al’s bespectacled eyes narrowed as his jaw worked for a logical explanation for all of this. “Wait a minute, you’ve been speaking to my friend Dennis, haven’t you? Because…he-he took his limited edition Captain Blackstar action figure out of the box once, then denied it, even when I _saw_ him do it.” He pounded the palms of both hands down on the counter. “He can’t be trusted!”

“No, no, it wasn’t him.”

“W-well, was it,” Al tapped the side of his mouth with one finger, “was it MadMarv from the Griffin Warriors Online forum? He couldn’t beat a vid comic without cheat codes if his life depended on it. The guy’s an addict!”

The Lombax shook his head, trying very hard to suppress the laughter building up inside him. As a result, he could only bring himself to utter a simple, “Nope.”

The geek looked about ready to chew his nails as he prepared his next answer, and his eyes widened to twice their previous size when the newest possible culprit hit him with utmost gravity, for he knew it could be no one else. “I knew it, it was my nemesis, Colin Felcher, wasn’t it? He doesn’t even really need glasses. They…get this,” he looked about to ensure no one else was listening and cupped a hand around his mouth, his voice dropping, “they don’t even have lenses.”

Ratchet kept his teeth clamped shut to prevent any sniggering from slipping free as Clank looked between the two of them, his metal jaw opening and closing as he contemplated whether or not it was necessary to continue from where his friend had left off. Meanwhile, on the other side of the counter, Al looked on like one awaiting the reveal of a beloved family member’s murderer.

Once he deemed himself capable of at least a few more moments of composure, Ratchet said, “Nope, it’s not him, either. Though…” he forced his mouth into the most serious frown he could muster, “he definitely sounds like a real piece of work.”

“I know, and everyone else acts like it’s no big deal! But, who _was_ it?”

The battle was lost when a chuckle burst forth from Ratchet’s lips that was all the stronger thanks to its extended time spent inside. “ _No one_. No one told us anything. We just-”

“Just as I suspected.” Al crossed his arms and held his head high, his eyes closed in the imperious manner only people of his field were capable of. “Because no such thing could ever happen here. Not on _my_ watch.”

Ratchet sighed. “Clank, why don’t you take over? Maybe he’ll respond better to his own kind.”

“If, by that, you mean ‘fellow intellectual’,” the techie said, “then I take that as a compliment.”

“I actually meant you’re both dopes.”

Clank eyed his friend with what would have been a raised eyebrow, had he possessed any, before he began, “It is a rather long story, so I will keep to the main point. We have reason to believe that your anti-biobliteration ray was stolen approximately two months ago, as we suspect it was this very type of device that was used to revert Dr. Nefarious back into an organic. In fact-”

“Hold on a second, _the_ Dr. Nefarious?” Al asked.

“Well, _yeah_ , I really hope there’s not more than one,” Ratchet said. “We actually managed to bring him to Kerwan, and-”

The geek put a hand to his chin, one eyebrow arched. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

“No, it probably doesn’t.”

Al’s face lit up with nerdy delight. “This means that I, Big Al of Big Al’s Roboshack, level 136 dragon tamer and an expert in the forgotten art of the sai, singlehandedly brought the supervillain Dr. Nefarious to justice! Wait ‘til my pals over at Cyber-Ninja Comics hear about _this_!” It seemed he was just about ready to run off and do just that when Clank stopped him with the power of pure logic alone.

“So you admit that your device _was_ stolen?”

Al put his foot down in mid-anticipated sprint and sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat. “Yeah, that’s right. Some weirdo actually managed to sneak in here in the middle of the night, and they seemed to have some strange technology that made them nearly invisible to my security. It must’ve been some really advanced stuff. I have security cameras, laser barriers, not to mention motion detectors that are sensitive enough to pick up an intruder’s heartbeat, all designed by yours truly. _No one_ should be able to get past it. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, they decided to take out my cameras with what I can only guess was a handheld EMP gun. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Well, that definitely sounds like our guy,” Ratchet said. “Were you able to get _any_ recording of them?”

“Sure, I…suppose you could say that. I had the camera feeds all transmitted to my computer, before they were wiped out, that is, and I did manage to spot _something_ out of the ordinary. If you come with me to the back, I’ll show you.” Al waved for them to follow him through a door behind the counter, pausing just once to direct a dire warning over his shoulder that was not to be disobeyed. “And don’t touch _anything_.”

The door led to a large back room filled with the many things a true geek found precious. Every item was arranged with loving care, not just his inventions, but autographed photos, an entire wall of comics, each stored in a protective plastic sleeve, the full lineup of VG game systems, all neatly arranged within a glass case, and a large collection of action figures still in the box that included five different versions of Captain Qwark. From the moment he first laid eyes on Al’s collection, Ratchet knew he best not even breathe upon any item in this room, for fear of invoking their owner’s wrath.

“I always assumed he lived in his mom’s basement,” Ratchet whispered to his friend as he eyed a poster for Qwark’s newest movie, Agent Awesome. Clank simply shrugged.

They passed through another door Al unlocked for them, and it was in here, in a much smaller room, that he sat down at a computer and began tapping away at the keys at a speed only those practiced in the ancient art of typing could achieve.

A recording popped up on the screen. “Look closely and tell me if you see anything unusual,” Al said and pressed a single button more. The recording began to play, surprisingly crisp for a security camera, and Ratchet leaned in closer as Clank pulled himself up to sit on the desk where he could more easily see. And yet, even though the Lombax gave up blinking so as not to miss a single thing, the only movement he caught in the dark room was a few lights sweeping across the walls and floor whenever ships passed by outside. He squinted one eye when something small sauntered by at the bottom of the screen.

“I didn’t know you had a cat-”

“Shh! It’s coming up soon!”

Despite this assurance, however, Ratchet caught nothing but a flicker of static in an otherwise serene night.

Pausing the video, Al turned to them, his wide eyes magnified even more by his glasses. “Did you see it? Just now! There was-”

“See _what_?” the Lombax asked with an exaggerated shrug. “I only saw-”

“Al, can you go back a few frames, please?” Clank asked from where he sat beside the computer, his short legs dangling over the side of the desk. “I saw it, as well, and I would like to get a better look.”

Al obliged, and with a few clicks, a form came into focus, if focus was the right word for it. Ratchet leaned in closer as he, too, picked up on a distorted shape amidst the cloud of static marring an otherwise clear picture.

Al’s fingers were nearly a blur as he worked to enhance the image and make it larger. “There are ways people can appear nearly invisible to security cameras, motion sensors, what have you, and it’s this very thing those with lesser brain capacities often mistake for ghosts. In fact, some people actually call it ghost-walking.” He sniggered at the thought. “Anyway, my security cameras were designed to prevent that, but like I touched on before, this person obviously has a pretty advanced cloaking field.”

By now, the figure was filling the screen, the detail sharpened, but still unclear, like someone emerging from mist and…flickering. Al pointed to the distortion. “ _That’s_ not a part of ghost-walking, though.”

“A hologuise, maybe?” Ratchet asked.

“It certainly could be,” Clank said with a nod. “Hologuises can often become unstable in the presence of some electrical fields, such as those used in certain cloaking devices. Which leads me to wonder _why_ someone would employ a hologuise when their appearance is already hidden by a cloaking field…” the little robot paused to consider his own quandary before shaking his head, “On this matter, however, I am afraid I do not have an answer.”

Ratchet crossed his arms. “Well, so much for finding out what this person looks like. Is there anything _else_ we can get out of all this? Because I really don’t want to be stuck at another dead end like that black hole.”

Al twisted about in his seat as Ratchet sat on the end of a nearby table. “Black hole? _What_ black hole?”

The Lombax rubbed his face with both hands. “We thought we had found the coordinates for where this person was headed, but it only led us to a black hole in the middle of nowhere.”

The nerd squinted at him as he stroked his chin. “This black hole…it wouldn’t happen to be in the Tenebri Sector, would it?”

Ratchet shrugged, his arms hanging limp in his lap. “I dunno. It could’ve been. Why?”

“Well, you see,” Al spun his seat around to better face the pair, “for the last few years, my fellow intellectuals and I have been studying this ancient civilization that was around a couple millennia ago. The reason we found them so interesting was because they were said to have built a device codenamed…” he paused, his eyes darting between the two of them, “the Four Horseman.” When neither reacted beyond arched eyebrows or blank stares, he cleared his throat and went on, “Anyway…unfortunately, we still haven’t been able to find any record of what it actually did. It’s rumored the place got sucked into a massive black hole somewhere in the Tenebri Sector, and if someone could find it, there are people who believe it might be possible to travel inside and find the remains of the ancient civilization that vanished all those millennia ago.”

“Traveling _into_ a black hole?” Clank repeated with a hand to his metallic chin. “They have occasionally been used as wormholes, but I have never heard of anyone being able to enter one in order to reach something that has been lost inside.”

“I know it sounds pretty farfetched, but all my calculations have thus far agreed with their theories. If you could find a way to withstand the massive amounts of force at the black hole’s center long enough to make the journey, that is.”

“Yeah, well,” Ratchet began, “that’s interesting and everything, Al, but we’re still not any closer to finding out who this person is.”

“Not so.” Al turned back to his computer and resumed his speedy typing. “I’ve also been looking into where this thief’s technology might have come from, and I think I’ve traced it back to its source.” He brought up an image on the screen of a planet with a crater in its northern hemisphere so massive that its very shape was irreversibly altered. In fact, whatever had caused the impact was so powerful, a large crack was visible in the planet’s surface that nearly split it in two. “Planet Virditia. They had a war there almost a century ago between the native population and the robots they created to do their manual labor. The robots were wiped out, but not before the war ruined what was left of the planet’s ecosystem after overcrowding took its toll. Even the moons were overpopulated before the war and the resulting famine killed off most of the inhabitants. Nowadays, only a few hundred residents remain. They are an isolated group and don’t share their secrets with outsiders, but if anyone would have technology suitable against robots, not to mention security cameras, EMP guns included, it would be them.” He shrugged. “At least, that’s the best guess I can make.”

Clank tilted his head in contemplation. “I suppose the logic is sound. Perhaps we might have another lead, after all.” The little robot dropped to the floor. “We appreciate your help.”

The remaining two members of the group stood, as well, in anticipation of their impending exit. Ratchet doubted Al would allow them to remain near his private computer, not to mention his prized collectibles, any longer than necessary. And knowing how protective nerds could get, he thought it best they didn’t overstay their welcome. “Were you able to see any more of this person than just a static-y blur?” the Lombax asked.

“If I had, I would’ve shown you, wouldn’t I? Now, will that be all?” Al looked between the two of them. “Because, believe it or not, I really _was_ busy with something when you got here.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going,” Ratchet headed for the door. “We’ll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing.”

“I already told you, I was working on my newest model of thermal fluctuator.”

“Still don’t know what that is.”

Al escorted them back to the front of his shop in half the time as their original trek. The pudgy alien clearly had no intention of allowing them to spend even one second alone with his precious collectibles, which was fine with Ratchet. The plastic faces of those Qwark figurines were really starting to get to him. He swore one had a smile that hadn’t been there upon his first perusal.

“Thanks for everything,” Ratchet said as he paused in the store’s entrance, the doors on either side sliding apart at his approach. If he wanted to hunt down a mythical artifact with a pretentious name, he knew where to look.

“If you _really_ want to thank me, you have to let me know if you find out any more about that black hole or the Four Horsemen,” Al said, settling back into his rightful spot behind the counter.

“I really doubt we will, but sure. If we learn anything, you’ll be the first person we’ll call.”

“Oh, and Ratchet? One more thing, promise me you won’t tell anyone about my…security breach. After I bragged to all the other geeks about how impenetrable my defenses were, they’ll never let me live it down if they find out I was, well, you know.”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” With that, they returned outside to the buzz of countless voices and the hum of a hundred vehicles passing by on their way to destinations only they knew. Life was always busy, it seemed, no matter what role one had been given. There were just times he wished he was busy with the kinds of things everyone else was.

Before they had gone a dozen feet, Ratchet heaved a sigh his friend took no delay in addressing. “Ratchet, I believe Big Al provided us with more information than you think.”

“Yeah, maybe.” The Lombax crossed his arms as Clank followed close behind.

“The Four Horsemen…” the little robot began with a hum of contemplation, his words slow as his mind worked. “I wonder if we followed the correct coordinates, after all. Perhaps…perhaps this person intended on travelling to the black hole to seek out the Four Horsemen and the civilization who built it.”

“I guess it’s possible. But, if he wants to fling himself into a black hole, that’s fine with me. And if that’s the case, then there’s no need for us to bother in the first place.”

Clank frowned and quickened his stride in order to better study his friend’s face. “Ratchet, whatever is the matter? We now know where Dr. Nefarious’ attacker got his advanced technology, which also explains how he managed to sneak so easily into the Doctor’s space station without detection. If we travel to Planet Virditia-”

“Clank, you know what, right now I’m really just interested in contacting the authorities and putting Nefarious in jail. _Then_ maybe I’ll be able to think about running off to _another_ planet to look for even more vague clues.” Ratchet’s gaze fell upon the small robot with a jerk. “Okay?”

Clank’s eyelids lowered to half-conceal his green optics. “Yes, Ratchet.”

Ratchet sighed when his friend fell in line beside him and said no more. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Travelling with a bunch of wackos is a lot harder than when it’s just the two of us.”

“I understand.” Clank glanced upwards. “Do you want _me_ to pilot Aphelion for a while?”

“No, that’s-”

Ratchet’s words were cut short by the shrill blare of sirens. His large ears perked up as he worked to identify the cause for the commotion, and it wasn’t long before confusion gave way to comprehension.

“Well, Clank. I guess this means Ophelia’s even worse at babysitting than she advertised.”

“Attention, citizens of Metropolis,” came a curiously casual female voice over the loudspeakers. “Dr. Nefarious has been spotted in the vicinity and should be considered armed and extremely dangerous. If sighted, do not attempt to approach him. The Galactic Rangers-”

“I guess that saves us the trouble of having to contact them ourselves,” Ratchet said as the crowds encompassing them started to clear off the streets. Based on their blind panic, it was obvious they were entirely unaware that the supervillain was grossly underequipped for any sort of invasion. “But, you know what I find odd,” he crossed his arms, “Nefarious simply sets foot in Metropolis, and people are scrambling to locate him, but we save the galaxy from nutcases like him, and there’s never any ruckus over us.”

Clank blinked up at him, the ghost of a grin forming on his metallic face. “Ratchet, do I detect…jealousy?”

“No… It…it would just be nice to get a _little_ recognition every once in a while, y’know.”

The little robot nodded knowingly, but before he could provide any verbal agreement to his friend’s plight, Ratchet stumbled as he was struck from behind. The Lombax’s arms wheeled about as he fought to maintain his balance, his mind readying a few choice words.

He was a bit slow to the draw.

“Watch it, you mangy-” Pulling aside the mane of hair that had fallen in her eyes, Ophelia directed a glare at the Lombax that faltered when she realized exactly which Lombax it was. “Oh, hey, Ratchet, I-”

“ _Mangy_ …” he began in a low growl, but otherwise bit back anything else he wished to say. Right now, time was of the essence, and he had a feeling the response simmering inside him would take longer than they could afford. “I thought we told you to keep an eye on Nefarious.”

“I _did_ ,” she said, her brow furrowing at how he could possibly claim otherwise.

Ratchet made an exaggerated show of looking all around him. “ _Really_ , because…because I don’t see Aphelion anywhere.” He turned back to her, his mouth set in a tight line. “Do _you_?"

“You never said to keep an eye on _Aphelia_ -”

“Aphelion.”

“-you said to keep an eye on the angry doctor-”

“ _Exactly_ , and-”

“-and I _did_ keep an eye on him, but you never said he had to stay on the ship-”

The Lombax’s hand struck his face. Or perhaps it was the other way around. “It was _implied_ -” he said.

“-so I _followed_ him. He never once left my sight. Not until now anyway. But only because you bumped into me.” She planted her fists on her hips, though her frown did nothing to diminish his, but rather, only served to make it grow.

“ _I_ didn’t bump into you,” Ratchet said, jabbing a thumb into his chest, “ _I_ wasn’t even moving.”

“Well-”

“Excuse me, Ophelia,” Clank held up one finger, “if you were following Dr. Nefarious up until now, do you mean to say that he just passed by this way?”

“Yeah,” she pointed off behind her with one thumb. “He went that way.”

The diminutive robot turned to his friend. “Ratchet, should we perhaps go after him? He could hurt someone.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Ophelia pulled out a blaster, and Ratchet drew back out of pure instinct and the memory of what usually happened when she was in possession of a weapon. “I managed to pick his pocket…well, not his pocket because this wasn’t in his pocket, but I-”

“Yeah, we get it,” Ratchet said. “So he’s not armed, then?”

She shook her head, blinking rapidly when her hair got in one eye. “Shouldn’t be,” she brushed the stray strands of hair from her face as if swatting away a mosquito. “That’s why-”

“Well, if he’s not armed, and the authorities are already searching for him, do we really need to go after him?”

Clank put a hand to his chin. “To be perfectly frank, the Galactic Rangers are not necessarily known for their, well, competence. Maybe it would be best if we…lent them a hand in comprehending him.”

The Lombax sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right….”

Throughout this brief exchange of words, a look of utmost horror had begun to grow on Ophelia’s face. “Hey, we’re not just going to _let_ him get arrested, are we? I mean, he helped us back on, eh, Myrtle, or whatever. If it weren’t for him, we may never have escaped.”

“Yeah,” Ratchet said, “but it was his fault we got stranded there in the first place. The authorities, and ourselves, have been trying to put him in prison for years! We’re not going to let him get away now that we’re this close!” He pointed in the direction she had previously indicated as being the villain’s route of escape. “He went that way. Right?”

Her jaw worked at an answer, but she only managed to utter a noncommittal noise in her throat before Ratchet darted off after the scientist.

“Come on, Clank! Nefarious is _not_ getting away this time!”

The Lombax dodged his way through the befuddled crowd, Clank taking up his usual place on his friend’s back to better keep up. Though he frowned over at Ophelia when she fell in line beside him, he knew he wouldn’t have time to ponder over her resistance to Nefarious’ arrest until _after_ the maniac was safely in handcuffs.

When he failed to locate the scientist after a quick survey of the surrounding area, the Lombax slowed to a stop and turned a raised eyebrow to the woman beside him. “You _sure_ he went this way?”

She nodded, though her expression maintained a persistent frown, and her eyebrows were still trying very hard to blend into her hairline, as if it was _her_ imprisonment they were orchestrating. His gaze swept once more over the now empty street as military transports passed by overhead with a low hum, on the lookout for the criminal the sirens continued to blare over. No villain with even an ounce of common sense would remain out in the open at a time like this, and if there was one thing Ratchet knew all too well, it was that, for all his blundering, the supervillain was a difficult person to outwit. If he wasn’t gone already, he would be soon.

Ratchet’s attention shot to an alley to his left whose entrance was nearly hidden by overgrown shrubs, and he sped off down it before his brain could even fully process the decision. He had plenty of experience in eluding enemy troops, and he supposed the same concept could apply to _finding_ someone who didn’t wish to be found as it did to hiding oneself from detection.

His intuition proved correct (Clank wasn’t the only source of sound judgement between them) when a very familiar voice met their ears at the alley’s end. Ratchet skidded to a halt, pressing his back against the nearest wall as he readied the Negotiator before him. At the sight of Ophelia’s opening maw, he slapped his free hand over her mouth before she could protest, only to remove it a second later at the sight of her glare. He had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t afraid to bite, and seeing as he didn’t wish to find out for certain, he settled for placing a finger to his mouth instead. She crossed her arms at his noiseless command, her lips pursing to such a degree that they nearly went missing from her face entirely, but otherwise remained silent.

Ratchet sucked in a deep breath. If the supervillain managed to escape from Kerwan, they might never get a chance to capture him again. Good thing he wasn’t about to let that happen. Purging every last ounce of hesitation from his mind, Ratchet pivoted around the corner, his gun aiming almost with a mind of its own at Dr. Nefarious.

“Nice try, Nefarious, but this looks like the end of the line for you.” The Lombax released a single laugh and took another step forward. “I gotta admit, though, you had a good run.”

The scientist spun to face him, the only sign of his butler’s presence a pair of feet visible on the other side of a small passenger ship. Lawrence might have bailed his employer out of plenty of troubles in the past, but he had never had to face a Lombax with a rocket launcher before. Nefarious only allowed his gaze to linger on the massive weapon aimed his way for a moment longer before he attempted to draw himself up to his full height, though his stature was not quite as intimidating as that of his robotic self. Nothing about him was, really, but he couldn’t fault the guy for trying.

“So, your true nature reveals itself at last, eh, Lombax?” Nefarious said, arching his eyebrows as he watched the other with half-closed eyes. Despite the villain’s casual expression, however, it was impossible to miss the way his fingers twitched, nor was it lost on Ratchet his clear attempts to ignore the weapon in his foe’s hands. “After all we’ve been through, and now you seek to kill me. Isn’t that typical for a squishy?”

The Lombax rolled his eyes. “I know a stalling tactic when I see one, Nefarious. And I really don’t think someone who has killed off entire populations and reduced planets to barren wastelands for his own selfish gain has any right to be high and mighty.”

“I could’ve killed you, you know,” the supervillain went on. “Back on that wretched planet. But I didn’t.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure you would have if your _butler_ had given you permission.” Ratchet’s smile doubled in strength when the scientist responded with a growl. “But, I’m not here to kill you. You’re going to get what you deserve, better, unfortunately, and we can do this the easy way, or we can see just how brittle your old organic self really is. So, which will it be?” He tightened his grip on the trigger. “Because I like the second option myself.”

Nefarious’ earlier concentration broke when he allowed his gaze to jolt back to the Negotiator. He remained stiff and motionless a moment longer, as if weighing the odds in his head, before he took off in the other direction in a desperate scramble for the soon to be pilfered ship. Ratchet fired off a rocket a second before the scientist could even make a move, but while he had expected the villain’s response, he did not expect the force that pushed him sideways, sending the rocket off in another direction just as a Class-GR32 hovership rose up before them like a dragon rearing its head.

Ratchet landed hard on his right shoulder just as Nefarious froze in mid-retreat to watch as the transport went up in flames. It remained hovering above them a few moments longer before sinking out of sight as if it had never been.

Time stopped as everyone proceeded to stare at each other in dumb disbelief, the sirens sounding like a distant din beneath the adrenaline of the moment. It was only when a new sound joined in that the seconds resumed their earlier, tireless march as Nefarious was stricken with a raucous cackling that nearly lost him his balance in its intensity.

“Nice going, Lombax! I was _right_ in front of you, and you _still_ missed!”

Ratchet snarled. “You can bet I won’t miss a second time!” He attempted to push himself back up, only to be pinned down again by Ophelia.

Lawrence’s arm emerged through the passenger door and tugged the still chuckling scientist inside. Before the ship had lifted no more than a dozen feet off the ground, the supervillain reappeared a second later to lean out the open door without a care for the growing heights beneath him. “Bon voyage, twits! And you, female, I gotta admit, you have a real knack for making the Lombax look like a moron. I don’t think I could’ve done better myself.” Nefarious directed a patronizing salute Ophelia’s way as the ship sped off and upwards.

Ratchet watched with drooping ears as the small ship was lost to sight in the pale blue of the sky. He remained silent, studying the spot where it had just been until the loss had become clear to him. With a growl, he shoved Ophelia aside, the unexpected push causing her to topple over and land on her backend.

Ratchet stumbled to his feet and glared down at her with enough strength, it was as if he wished to eclipse her own wide-eyed stare. “What the heck was _that_ for? We’ve been trying to stop that guy for years, and…we-we _finally_ had him! He wouldn’t have gotten away if you hadn’t felt the need to screw everything up!”

Clank dropped to the ground and rushed to place himself between the pair, his arms held out from his sides. “Ratchet-”

“What, are you sided with him or something?”

Even now, Ophelia remained on the ground. “I-I’m sorry, but-”

“Ratchet, please try to calm down.”

“I’m through with you! I mean it, I’m…” he turned away and drew in a long, slow breath. “Just…figure out a way to get back home because you’re not coming with us.”

“But, I-”

“Ophelia,” Clank began, “Dr. Nefarious is dangerous. He needs to be brought to justice-”

“Don’t waste your time, Clank!” Ratchet began to march back towards the alley, and he paused when a Galactic Ranger ducked out of sight and began murmuring to someone unseen. “Hey, what are you guys doing? Nefarious got away, you need to-”

A muted argument could just be heard around the corner before the Ranger staggered back out into the open as if he had been pushed. He went stiff under the Lombax’s confused gaze.

“Uh, I-you…uh, w-we saw what you did, and uh-” The robot chanced a glance backwards at whoever had volunteered him for something Ratchet had yet to figure out, before he lifted a shaky hand. “Uh…halt?”

The Lombax frowned. “I think you got the wrong guy. Nefarious just-” He lifted a hand to point skyward, and the Ranger pulled out a blaster.

“H-hey, put your hands-put ‘em, eh, stick ‘em up!”

Ratchet dropped the Negotiator and did as he was told, the reaction a natural response to all the threats he had been receiving lately. “W-wait a minute-”

The robot called back over his shoulder. “This guy’s resisting arrest! Someone lend me a hand!”

“Wh-what are you talking about-”

A group of Galactic Rangers jumped out from behind the cover of the alley, guns in tow. One of them attempted a bizarre somersault that only succeeded in him banging into a dumpster with a pained yelp.

Ratchet forced a nervous chuckle and began to back away. “If you guys just put your weapons down, I can explain the whole thing. This is all just a big-”

“We don’t bargain with scumbags like you!” one Ranger said, just a tad less quivering to be detected in his voice than the previous one. “Drop and give me 20! Wait, that’s not right-”

“Let’s just charge him before he knows what’s happening!”

“You idiot! Don’t announce our plans to the enemy! Now he’ll be expecting it!”

The robots fell silent in favor of staring at each other, and just as the Lombax’s thoughts turned to escape, the Rangers arrived at some unspoken agreement and began to run in his direction with a dissonant chorus of shouts. Ratchet yelled out as they tackled him and pinned him to the ground.

“You think it’s funny to blow up our transports like a can you left too long in the microwave, huh? Well, we’re not laughing!”

“Yeah, it was terrifying!”

Ratchet squirmed beneath their grip as Clank attempted to explain, his small form surely the main reason he had been thus far spared the Rangers’ fury. “Please, release my friend. He did not damage your transport on purpose.”

With a screeching war cry, Ophelia pounced on one of the Rangers and beat at him with her fists as she clung to his back in a manner not so very different from the time Captain Qwark had stolen one of Skrunch’s bananas…. “Let him go, you-you oversized…coffeemakers!”

“Get her off me! She’s scary!” the Ranger said, flailing about as he attempted to knock her free.

Another fiddled with the handcuffs. “How do you work these things?”


	14. It’s Not Me, It’s You

It was really quite ironic, when one got to thinking about it, how close Ratchet might have come to committing a real crime had he and his comrades not been falsely arrested before he could follow through on it. The Galactic Rangers, surely out of concern for their own safety rather than a brief burst of competence, had already confiscated the entirety of the Lombax’s vast arsenal of weapons, leaving him to merely wonder which might have been the best one to use on the traitorous wretch they had since come to know as Ophelia. It was a difficult decision, to be sure, when there were so many good options.

With violence currently out of the question, he instead spent the entire flight to jail rehearsing all the many things he wanted to say to the backstabber (it was frightening how literal the term really could be applied in her case, if she ever had actually followed through on her multiple attempts at murdering him in their short acquaintanceship). By the time the trio had arrived in their own jail cell and the energy field had been activated behind them, however, all he wanted to do was curl up on one of the cell’s two cots and try to forget everything that had happened. Of course, the first half was easily accomplished, but forgetting was another matter entirely. He would never forget what she had done.

They had been so close, and now that murdering psychopath was free again.

The only words that dared break the silence was but a single “I’m sorry” that had drifted across the narrow space shortly into their shared imprisonment, but aside from that, no other sound was uttered as long hours passed them by, and the sunlight shining in through the small window near the ceiling began to crawl up the wall with the coming sunset. Even now, Ratchet worked to ignore the constant buzz of the energy generators, an attempt that had thus far proven unsuccessful, while Clank remained in silent vigil where he had since perched himself on the corner of his friend’s cot, his slight weight barely enough to provide any sort of indent on the hard mattress.

It was not until sometime after the sun had gone down that the robot spoke up for the first time. “I am sure we will be released in the morning, Ratchet. We have done nothing wrong.”

The Lombax swallowed in an effort to moisten a throat that had long gone dry. “Yeah, I hope so,” he said and continued to stare at the wall inches in front of his nose. Though he may have appeared idle on the outside, his mind had since been given a chance to clear, allowing a new thought to push its way through the haze their failure and unexpected imprisonment had brought on. Nefarious might have gotten away this time, but he had just the idea that might be able to fix this whole mess, after all. With this slight reassurance, he fell asleep before his plan could be expressed to anyone.

Ratchet was woken up sometime in the early morning, based on the weak light coming through the window, by a gentle shake from Clank. Once the robot had received his friend’s attention, he pointed off in the direction of the energy field even as the Lombax was still yawning and blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“What is it, Clank?” Ratchet arched his back in a long stretch.

“You want another piece of me?”

The Lombax glanced over at the sound of Ophelia’s voice with an involuntary grimace. Their former ally was currently standing before a Galactic Ranger, her hands balled into fists and her stance wide, seemingly unaware that her threat was not one she could actually follow through on at this time. The Ranger promptly darted behind a figure much smaller than him, despite the electrical field separating him from the puffy-haired woman.

Ratchet squinted at the shimmering blue barrier obstructing his view. There was something oddly familiar about their second visitor, and he rolled out of bed without another moment’s delay to get a better view of the pair standing out in the corridor.

“Ratchet, I’m sorry about this, but you know how these guys can get.” The unknown figure half-turned to the Ranger behind her. “Deactivate the field.”

“But, sir, th-they’re hardened criminals!” The Ranger pointed at Clank with one quivering hand. “Even the tiny one has an unsavory glint in his eyes.”

The small robot in question frowned at this accusation.

“Just do as you’re told.”

“Sasha?” Ratchet said. “Is that you?” His question was answered when the barrier was deactivated, and he was, at last, given an unhindered view of the brown-furred Cazar. The last time he had seen her in person had been during their first adventure involving Dr. Nefarious. The last time he had seen her at all…it was on the holoscreen, and she had been elected President of the Solana Galaxy.

Ratchet began to stutter before any additional words had been given a chance to leave his mouth. “Ah, I-I mean…uh, P-President…President Phironix.” The title had made no difference to him back when it had applied to Captain Qwark. As far as he was concerned, the galaxy had been leaderless during Qwark’s entire time in office. And in all honesty, it had been.

She smiled. “Sasha’s fine.” Her expression turned solemn as she went on. “I heard what happened, about Dr. Nefarious and…your arrest, and I thought it best I come here in person and _apologize_ ,” she eyed the taller robot beside her, who continued to tremble in the presence of the newly released prisoners, “on behalf of the Galactic Rangers for what you and your friends were put through. After everything you and Clank have done for the galaxy, such conduct was unacceptable.”

“It’s fine, really,” Ratchet said. “I’m just glad you came when you did. I wasn’t looking forward to prison food.”

Sasha laughed. “Good to hear. Well, now that that’s settled, we have a lot to discuss, though it might be better if we found somewhere else to…” She paused as Ophelia drew in close and squinted at her.

“Are you a Lombax?”

Sasha glanced back and forth between her and Ratchet, her lips frozen in words she had apparently forgotten. “Uh, no, I’m-”

“Don’t mind her,” Ratchet said. “I think she’s supposed to stay in here.”

Apparently Sasha didn’t take Ratchet’s comment about Ophelia’s continued imprisonment seriously, for they were all escorted to a small presidential transport vessel for a short flight to the newly built Starship Phoenix III. It was here that Ratchet was reunited with his weapons, after which the Cazar brought them to a conference room sporting a large window spanning the entire back wall that gave an impressive view of Kerwan from orbit. It was not the view that had caught Ratchet’s attention, however, but a certain shade of green he had never realized until this day was responsible for his unexplained resentment towards all of Clank’s houseplants. It made so much sense now.

“Uh, Sasha, why’s Qwark here?”

At this mention of his name, the superhero removed his feet from the tabletop. “I think the real question you should be asking is, why am I ever _not_ here?” Qwark grasped the armrests on either side of him and pushed himself to his feet to stand at his full, impressive height, the only thing about him that could be described as such. “I _did_ singlehandedly capture Dr. Nefarious yesterday, didn’t I? And for that, I just wanted to say a very humble, ‘you’re welcome’.”

“Qwark,” Ratchet began, “Nefarious got away. He and Lawrence stole a ship and took off.”

Qwark scratched his massive chin. “Really? That’s not how _I_ recall it happening.”

“Inviting him to dinner doesn’t count,” Ophelia said.

“Uh, h-how did…I-I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” The large man laughed as he tugged at his collar.

“I saw it,” she continued in a deadpan, seemingly unaware of the confused glances she and the superhero were currently receiving.

Qwark frowned. “A-and _who_ are you?”

She pointed to her chest. “I’m Ophelia, the fluffy one’s Ratchet, and the-”

“He already _knows_ who we are.” Ratchet marched on by her, his arms swinging in quick, aggravated arcs. “Let’s just get to the point, all right?” The Lombax plopped down at the long conference table beside the seat clearly designated for Clank, a guess he made based on the books piled atop it to place the diminutive robot at a better height, while Ophelia sat at the seat across from him. This would have been a tolerable, if not ideal, arrangement, if only she didn’t roll it around the table five seconds later to place herself directly next to him. Slapping his palms down upon the armrests in silent protest, he got up in favor of sitting in the seat on Clank’s _other_ side.

To complete the seating arrangements, Sasha took up her rightful place at the end of the table, which so happened to be the very same spot Qwark had been occupying upon their arrival. Pausing to frown at this theft, the superhero was given no choice but to wander over to the seat situated at the other end of the table, which also had the unfortunate disadvantage of being even closer to Ratchet than his previous option was.

“So,” President Phironix began, “I guess the most obvious question to start with is, what was Dr. Nefarious doing in Metropolis?”

“Well, Sasha…can I call you Sasha,” Qwark leaned back in his seat, his hands meeting at the fingertips, “what my nemesis was clearly up to was-”

“Visiting you for dinner, apparently,” Ophelia said.

The superhero pounded one fist down on the table. “Would you stop bringing that up!”

Sasha cleared her throat. “Actually, _Captain_ Qwark, my question was directed at Ratchet.”

Ophelia directed a stern nod at the superhero.

“Well, uh…” the Lombax scratched one of his long ears when everyone’s attention fell on him, “i-it’s kind of a long story. Basically, I guess what it boils down to is…you see…”

“If I may,” Clank began and, at Ratchet’s grateful nod, went on, “I am certain you recall the recent investigation of Dr. Nefarious’ disabled space station, correct?”

Sasha nodded.

“Well, as my friend expressed, it is a rather complicated story, but the person responsible also managed to kidnap Dr. Nefarious and convert him back into an organic with…uh, a stolen anti-biobliteration ray.”

Qwark tapped his chin, one eye squinted in what _could_ be described as his “thinking face”, had anyone not known better. “I _thought_ there was something different about him.” He straightened at this admission, and his eyes darted from side to side to check if anyone had caught on. “Uh, not that I, uh, saw him recently or anything.”

Clank eyed the superhero just once before continuing, “As I was saying, we met up with him after his escape from his kidnapper and brought him to Metropolis under the belief that we were going to help him find the person who had attacked him. Unfortunately, he…escaped before we could have him arrested.”

The Cazar leaned forward. “Well, do either of you…” She trailed off when Ophelia lifted a hand.

“Me, too?”

Captain Qwark looked between the other members of the group before raising his own hand high. “Oh, me, too! I want in on this, too!”

“Uh, yes, well, do… _any_ of you,” President Phironix directed arched eyebrows at the superhero, “have any idea who this person is or what they might want with the galaxy’s most wanted criminal?”

Qwark raised his hand again, but received no more than a short stare from Sasha before she returned her gaze to Ratchet. “Anything?”

Finding himself once again under the spotlight, Ratchet began to fidget as he tried to avoid keeping his focus on any one member of the group for too long. “Nothing good, that’s for sure. The best guess we can make is that he planned on using Nefarious for his own evil schemes because he managed to, I don’t know…download his ideas or something while he was still a robot. But other than that, we don’t really know much else. Our only lead at the moment is a planet called…uh, Virditia-”

Ophelia choked on the glass of water she had just poured for herself. “Virditia? Why _there_?”

“Uh, because-Big Al, well, you see, he…he thinks the technology this person used can be traced back to that place, and-”

Wiping free a few droplets that had begun to dribble down her chin, the redhead went on, “I seriously doubt you can trace whatever silly gadgets he or she apparently had to one single location. What if he bought it from a store?”

“I _really_ don’t think he bought these kinds of things from a store,” Ratchet said.

“He could have if _I_ was still running things,” Qwark said with crossed arms. His face lit up as he was struck with his own unique blend of what could only be described as an idea as it pertained to him and him only. “Hey, you guys remember my Friendship Through Firepower Initiative? If that was still around, you _could_ have gotten weapons of mass destruction at your local convenience store.” He propped his big, empty head on one fist. “Ah, to think what could’ve been.”

At this, the conversation ground to a temporary halt as everyone turned to stare at the superhero, whose continued grin might have very well indicated that he suspected admiration to be the true reason the attention of the room had fallen on him and not some other reason entirely. They were only rescued from the ensuing silence when the President shook her head. “Well, it’s worth a try. But Virditia is not known for being very friendly, even amongst the few survivors left remaining after the war. You’ll have your work cut out for you finding anything, but I know you’ll figure something out.” She smiled. “If I remember correctly, you’ve dealt with far worse.”

Ratchet’s face was split by a crooked grin, and he returned to scratching his head. “Yeah, uh, thanks. I’m sure I’ll, uh, I-I mean, ‘we’ will manage just fine. I’m just not so certain we’ll find anything to begin with.”

“Yeah,” Ophelia said, “and that’s why it’s silly.”

“Should I alert the Galactic Rangers to start a manhunt for this person?” Sasha asked.

The Lombax shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary yet. We still know so little, there’s really nothing to even go on in the first place.”

“And,” Ophelia added, “this person is hard enough to find as it is. Starting a search for him may only drive him even deeper into hiding.”

“Yeah, Ophelia…” Ratchet let out a deep breath as he prepared for his next words, “actually has a good point for once.”

She crossed her arms and sent a smug look his way. “I’m often _quite_ pointy.”

“Don’t you worry, Ratchet,” Qwark laced his fingers before him on the tabletop, “I’d be more than happy to join you in your search.”

Ratchet nearly leapt from his seat. “What, no! I mean, that’s…fine, but we really-we can really manage just fine on our own.”

“No, _seriously_ , I want to help. It’ll be no trouble at all.”

“I don’t think he wants you to come,” Ophelia said.

The superhero frowned and turned a questioning gaze on Ratchet. “She can’t really mean that you mean that, right, Ratchet?”

“Okay, now that this matter has been settled,” President Phironix broke in with a raised voice to better demand their attention, the palms of her hands pressed together before her, “all that leaves us with is what to do about Dr. Nefarious. We came very close to capturing him yesterday, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t intend on giving up that easily. Any ideas?”

“Yeah, actually,” Ratchet said, his hand lifting of its own accord. He almost felt like he was back in school, with Clank, Qwark, and Ophelia representing the smart kid, the dumb kid, and the weird kid, respectively. He had a sneaking suspicion that he, at least in this circumstance, was the teacher’s pet. “Nefarious kept demanding that we take him to his old lab on Magmos. He thought he’d be safe there, so that’s probably where he’s heading. He’s unarmed, and I don’t think the ship he stole has any weaponry, either. If…the Galactic Rangers, or…anyone _else_ you think might be a good choice, go to Magmos, I’d be willing to bet he’d be there.”

Ophelia pursed her lips. “You just won’t leave that guy alone, will you?”

Though Ratchet managed to ignore her, on the surface anyway, he could feel his ears draw back as Sasha responded, “That’s perfect, Ratchet. Maybe we haven’t missed our chance, after all. Well, I believe that covers everything. Is there anything else,” she looked around the room, her gaze turning stern when it passed over Qwark, who closed his mouth and leaned back in his seat at her mere glance alone, “that’s actually _related_ to the matter of Dr. Nefarious or this…mystery culprit that we need to discuss?”

Captain Qwark opened his mouth once more, only to close it again when he got second thoughts, and the Cazar turned once more to Ratchet. “I suppose that settles it. Ratchet, I wish…all of you good luck, and you know that I am more than happy to assist if you need it. I’ll provide you with my direct line if you ever need to contact me. In the meantime, we will see what we can do about bringing Dr. Nefarious to justice.” She stood, and they all followed suit with varying levels of speed. “And Ratchet, promise me you’ll get some rest before you leave. You look tired. I suspect you didn’t sleep well in jail.”

* * *

Everyone, save the President herself, returned to the streets of Metropolis via the same small transport ship that had taken them to the Phoenix an hour earlier, though not before receiving a farewell and a good luck from Sasha that Captain Qwark had claimed was vastly directed at him. Returning Clank to his back in anticipation of a quick getaway, Ratchet found himself unable to flee the scene before any more damage could be done when Qwark promised to meet them at their apartment the very next morning to aid them on their quest. Though his stomach churned inside at the prospect of replacing three nuisances, one villainous, one traitorous, and one just plain snarky, with the egotistical superhero, who more than made up for their absence, and not merely due to his size, Ratchet couldn’t even summon up the willpower to protest. The guy was bound to sleep in late in the morning anyway, the Lombax reasoned, so they could simply leave before he ever showed up.

Once Qwark strutted off in the direction of his condo, humming a merry tune as he did so, that left them with one last problem to shake off. Ophelia.

Acknowledging her presence seemed to be the worst way to deal with her at the moment, and so Ratchet decided the best thing to do in such an uncomfortable situation would be to merely ignore her. His eyes were forced to pass over her when she planted herself directly in front of him with the most pitiful expression she could muster, but he made no other indication that he was aware of her more than obvious efforts at making him relent. Clank knew better than anyone how difficult it was to convince the Lombax to do something when he was deadest against it. That was probably why the tiny robot had chosen to stay out of it.

Ratchet headed for home, his stance stiff and his hands clenched at his sides with enough intensity that he thought he heard his knuckles crack. He absolutely refused to look back over his shoulder. Not that he really needed to. He could feel her presence just as easily as he could see her shadow moving along behind him out of the corner of his eye. He just felt sorry for Clank when it occurred to him that his companion was forced to watch her the whole way. Simply being aware of the pathetic expression her face had settled into was awkward enough.

By the time they were nearly home, it was quite clear his little plan wasn’t working when she continued to stalk them with the same persistence one would expect if she was physically bound to them by chains. He had wanted to end this in the least ugly way he knew how, but if she wanted to force the issue, then so be it.

Ratchet turned back to her, his mind already assembling the very reprimand he had been working on during their entire walk. She tensed before his gaze, as if she believed movement was the only thing cluing him in to her presence.

“Ophelia, do you remember what I told you yesterday?” His voice was deadly calm, any anger he had once felt replaced by cold fortitude.

Her eyes rolled skyward as she thought this over, as if she expected to find a ship trailing a banner overhead that would spell out the answer. “To…watch Dr. Nefarious?” An unsure grin appeared on her face, but no amusement reflected back on his own.

“I said you’re not traveling with us anymore. And I meant it. I forgave you when you pulled a knife on me, twice, even when…heck, the first time you did it should have been a clear sign I shouldn’t have allowed you to ever come with us in the first place. But what you did yesterday…” By now, Ratchet’s voice had raised in volume to the point that people had begun to stop and stare. “Look, Ophelia, this is not working out. We can’t work with someone we can’t trust.”

“But…but you don’t understand. After all we’ve been through, and-”

Ratchet turned away with a roll of his eyes. “Give it up, Ophelia! You’re not changing my mind, so just…go home. I don’t care which one. Just get far away from us.”

Ratchet left her behind without so much as a glance backwards, and all the yelling she could muster couldn’t slow him down. They arrived home a short while later after a silent elevator ride where they were accompanied by no one else but a chubby Markazian who dared not stare any longer at the galaxy’s last Lombax, nor his miniature robot companion, once Ratchet returned his curious gaze with a grim stare of his own. It was only after he had locked the door to their shared apartment that Clank finally spoke up.

“Ratchet,” the little robot dropped to the floor and proceeded to follow his friend with his gaze until the Lombax had fallen backwards onto the couch with a boneless kind of weariness, “do you think you may have been a tad…harsh earlier?”

Ratchet did not respond right away, but merely listened to his friend’s metallic footsteps, which halted upon the advent of a sigh. “Oh dear, my orchids are dead again.”

“Come on, Clank, after what she did, do you really think I could have allowed her to keep tagging along with us? Who knows what she would have done next.” Ratchet folded his arms behind his head. “I almost wouldn’t be surprised if she was heading to Magmos right now to warn Nefarious the Rangers are coming.” He stiffened as soon as these words left his lips. She wouldn’t…would she?

“In her defense, I am not certain she truly comprehends how much her actions endangered the galaxy. She does not appear to have the same knowledge of Dr. Nefarious’ crimes that most people do, which would explain her willingness to defend him after he played a substantial role in our escape from…Myrtle.” As unlikely as it had initially seemed, the word was getting easier and easier to say. At this point, neither seemed to remember that Myrtle was not even the planet’s real name.

There was the scrape of glass on wood as Clank removed his orchids from the table on which they had, at some uncertain point in the near past, met their end. “However,” the robot went on, “when I look at the situation from your perspective, I must admit that I agree with your reservations. Regardless of her motivations, she is unpredictable and, therefore, an unreliable companion. I just hope she does not take her banishment from the group too badly.”

Ratchet continued to listen to the robot’s unseen actions. A few moments later, he was rewarded with the sound of Clank’s decaying orchids being dumped into the trash. “You need to stop buying plants, Clank.”

“I know. I just did not expect another adventure so soon.”

“You and me both, buddy.” Why did most people associate adventures with positive things? Sure, there _was_ danger and excitement, but more often than not, they were spending countless hours confined in cramped spaces, flying from one corner of the galaxy to the other, or tending to numerous injuries after their most recent encounter with some murderous nutcase. If that truly was someone’s idea of a good time, he’d like to personally invite them to be his guest.

Seeing as no one had yet decided to take their places, he assumed that could only mean that adventures really _weren’t_ anyone’s idea of a good time, after all.

Ratchet closed his eyes and released a long exhalation of breath. “Let’s not talk about her anymore. We just need to enjoy our break while it lasts. Right, Clank?”

The Lombax grinned when Clank’s distinctive chuckle met his ears. “When you put it that way, I could not agree more.”

Of course, following his own advice proved to be more difficult than it should have been, for within a half hour of their return, Ratchet was faced with one problem that never failed to bother him. The fact that home had a way of feeling less like a home, not more, with every week and every month they spent away from it. While Clank had since taken up residence in a yellow armchair that dwarfed his far smaller size, seemingly at ease as he returned to reading a thick textbook on quantum physics, Ratchet struggled with his own means of keeping busy.

In an effort to combat this disconcerting inability to relax, he tried everything he could think of. The first method in which he attempted to entertain himself almost always came in the form of vid comics, but after losing multiple times in a boss battle against a giant cybernetic vulture, of all things, he decided he had better quit before he ended up throwing his controller. Again. The mark on the wall remained to this day.

Deciding his afternoon would be far more worthwhile if shared with a friend, he challenged Clank to a game of Galactic Chess, which lasted a grand total of ten minutes before the robot practically wiped the floor with him. When it seemed any kind of game would result in him becoming more aggravated rather than less, he tried relaxing with a shower followed by some light reading that inevitably broke down into doodling in the margins until Clank caught what he was doing and put a stop to his vandalism with a mere look alone. And that, he supposed, was the problem with relaxation. It couldn’t be rushed, nor could it be so easily crammed into a limited period of time when he had something far from relaxing still looming over him.

Before he even realized where his feet were taking him, Ratchet found himself staring blankly out the window at the constant stream of traffic zipping by outside before visiting the kitchen to peer dumbstruck into a fridge the robot had nearly gutted once he had weeded out everything that had gone bad, including the milk, cheese, and some meat that looked as if it was trying to grow back the fur it had in life. With a sigh, he shuffled over to the pantry to take out one of the few remaining things left that Clank had dubbed safe to eat.

“BAM,” the Lombax read off the can. “What the- Clank, what is beef SPAM?”

The robot lowered the book he had since returned to after the completion of their chess match to peer over it. “Why, it was on sale, so I thought it might be something new for you to try.”

Ratchet cringed at the pale hunk of unnaturally shaped meat gloriously displayed on the label amidst a starburst of fireworks before putting it back where he had had found it and heading for the door.

“Ratchet, where are you going?”

“I think I’ve wasted enough time driving myself nuts here. I may as well go do something useful.”

It took only a short walk to reach Aphelion, and once Ratchet had transferred her to the base of their apartment building, he studied her battered and abused hull, damage from the crash on that rainy planet that he hadn’t yet had the time, nor the tools, to fix. If they were going to fly to some distant corner of the galaxy, to a planet he had been warned multiple times wasn’t exactly friendly, he’d feel a lot better if the thing that was going to take them there was in better shape. Skilled mechanic that he was, he was sure he could make some noticeable improvements before they left in the morning.

Ratchet got to work replacing damaged wiring and soldering together the more substantial cracks in Aphelion’s hull with a speed and efficiency of which only a Lombax was capable. Sure, he was an adventurer, but the adventures always ended eventually. He _never_ stopped being a mechanic, and that was one area where he couldn’t be beaten. Not even _Clank_ could top him there.

He worked late into the evening, and he didn’t stop even once the sun had been replaced by overhead streetlights and the traffic droning by overhead had lessened to the point that there was scarcely a thing to interrupt his concentration. When he was in his element, almost nothing could break his focus, and that only made it all the more unsettling when he found himself unable to continue his work due to a vague feeling that something was out of place.

The first indication that something was off was that unsettling, inexplicable feeling of eyes on the small of his back that never failed to make him feel exposed. He remained frozen in place, his ears pricking up, and when the feeling of unease failed to leave him, he made a cautious turn to better scan the street beyond. Bright though the city of Metropolis was at all hours due to the rectangular curtains of light that spilled forth from nocturnal storefronts and the glow of neon signs that only made their presence known once the sun fell, there was one forgotten side street his attention was drawn to, whose presence he normally overlooked due to the towering buildings it ran between that prevented any light from falling there.

Ratchet’s fur stood on end when his searching gaze snapped onto a figure in the distance, standing at the edge of a beam of light created by a flickering streetlamp. Their form nearly blended into the darkness surrounding them, and he continued to watch them without daring to blink, as if to confirm that his eyes were not simply deceiving him. And then, just like that, the form merged into the darkness and was gone.

He stepped forward, as if such a small advance would make any real difference, and peered with squinted eyes into the black space where the shape had seemingly vanished. While small bands of people continued to roam about even at this hour, no one strayed from the security offered by streets more widely travelled. No one wandered into the alleys at night unless they had something to hide. Ratchet started forward again with a burst of speed, only to skid to a halt in the glow of one of the streetlights. He needn’t wonder long where the mystery figure had gone, however, for his head zipped to the side at a rustling just in time to catch the retreating ankle of someone turning a corner.

Ratchet dashed after the mysterious figure without a second thought, his footsteps echoing off the towering walls of buildings that extended even further downwards than they did up. And yet, despite every bend in the path that he took, he could never advance beyond fleeting glimpses of the one he was pursuing, and it occurred to him with a sickening twinge in the pit of his stomach just how truly dark his surroundings had become. He had no idea of the hour, but he was certain he had stayed out far longer than he had planned, with naught but a single blaster and his wrench for defense.

The Lombax came to a stop in a courtyard with ragged breath, the reason for his sudden stillness due in part to the unexpectedness of such a drastic change in scenery. Even now, the target of his brief chase through Metropolis’ back alleys remained out of sight, but before he could continue his search, his gaze was pulled upwards by the pointing beams of spotlights that wished to draw his attention to hanging ivy and the leafy branches of flowering bushes planted around the circular opening high above, through which light would surely pass when the sun was high. Had there been any sunlight at this hour, it would have fallen upon the courtyard’s centerpiece, a grand fountain of many tiers, the water gone stagnant for nighttime, when no one would be about to enjoy its tranquility. In fact, it was absolutely silent here, far quieter than Ratchet would normally expect from such a busy and bustling city, and a part of him believed it wasn’t just the late hour that was to blame, but the foliage itself for the stifling of any outside noise. Here, it was almost possible to forget the city in which this verdant alcove lay so deeply hidden, but he had not forgotten his reason for coming here.

Ratchet began to circle the lifeless fountain, his feet muffled to almost nothing on the soft grass spread out beneath him, and he paused when he laid eyes upon the very same figure he had been so adamantly pursuing mere moments ago. They stood with their back to him a good ten feet away, and yet, despite the increased illumination of this small, private space, their form even now remained dark and unclear, as if he was looking at something through a dirty lens. His fur pricked up as he studied the close-fitting robes that didn’t so much as waver even upon someone who should have been breathing as heavily as he was now. If he hadn’t known better, he might have assumed they were a statue for all the movement they made.

“Who are you?” Ratchet said, his voice sounding far louder than he knew it was. It was only instinct that had made him follow this person to begin with, and he began to wonder if he should feel victorious over reaching them or simple embarrassment for chasing some unknown stranger without cause.

In fact, this entire spectacle seemed utterly ridiculous now that he had been given a chance to think about it. And yet, their continued presence might have told him enough already, when one considered the clear lack of concern on display even after a Lombax had just pursued them through the darkened city streets seemingly without provocation. He stepped closer. “Say something! What did you want with Nefarious? What…what are you planning?”

Ratchet grew stiff when the figure made a slow turn, and his already pounding heart sped up further when he was met not with a face, but rather, a smooth, featureless surface. He remained silent, his mind working out an answer to this impossibility, until a grin split his feline features, and he released a single laugh. “You’re not going to scare me. That’s just a hologuise.”

His smile didn’t remain for long, however, for he was only greeted with more of the same eerie silence as before. The fingers of his right hand twitched. Across from him, the figure remained in place, their stance as tense as their pursuer’s, like a cat ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. The end of Ratchet’s tail began to flick from side to side with no thought of his own.

The Lombax retreated back a step when the faceless…whoever-they-were reached behind them and pulled out a sickle from beneath their robes. The figure lifted it high overhead, as if to ensure the identity of the object did not go unnoticed. This effort proved effective, for Ratchet couldn’t help but stare up at the curved blade, all the while questioning why they would choose to reveal something so archaic, especially for one possessing such advanced technology.

Before he could question such an unorthodox weapon choice any longer, the object was swung downward with such force that it continued to stick upright out of the ground where the blade had buried itself in the soil at its owner’s feet. Arching an eyebrow at this curious display, the Lombax pulled out his blaster with the lightning-quick reflexes granted by years of practice when the figure began to stride straight for him with quick steps.

“Don’t come any closer!” Ratchet said, retreating backwards in an arc around the silent fountain. “Another step, and I’ll shoot!”

This challenge was only met with another drawn weapon, a gun far larger than his own. It was only the skill of the wielder that mattered in the end, not the size of the gun, but he couldn’t help but pause mentally when electricity arced between the trio of prongs at the weapon’s tip. A crackling ball of blinding blue and white began to form, growing in size until it was fired off at him with a mighty jerk that nearly sent the wielder reeling backwards before they could steady themselves. Ratchet leapt to the side just in time as the foot-wide mass of pure electricity struck the spot where he had just been standing with an explosion of soil and blackened blades of grass.

Ratchet fired off a few quick rounds of his own as his assailant came for him again, but they merely lifted a gloved hand in response, from which emanated a shimmering blue field that absorbed each and every shot sent their way before vanishing as soon as the danger was eliminated. Baring his teeth in a snarl, Ratchet tried again and again, keeping the fountain between them all the while, but none of his efforts managed to make contact. His heart quickened when his adversary readied their cannon again.

This time, the fountain took the brunt of it, its base crumbling and its many tiers collapsing upon themselves with a resounding crash of concrete. A small deluge of water peppered Ratchet’s face, and he wiped moisture from his eyes as a cloud of dust began to snake upwards through the opening overhead like the smoke from a fire. That was a mistake. And he wasn’t about to miss this opportunity.

The Lombax vaulted over the ruined fountain without a moment’s hesitation, pulling out his wrench as he did so and raising it high in both hands, pure adrenaline alone enough to prevent him from hacking in the dust. He pounded the weapon down hard as he landed, the force sending a shockwave in all directions. When he lifted his gaze, his attacker had already vanished, and his head whipped around at a crackling from behind. Ratchet swung his wrench just as a new ball of electricity came careening towards him, a fraction of its charge transferring down his wrench and into his arm at the brief contact, causing him to hiss in pain at the sudden jolt, while the rest ricocheted right back at its source.

This, they absorbed with one raised hand just as easily as everything else, and he growled at the nonchalance in which they did so before dashing forward. Ratchet began to beat at them with his wrench with such ferocity that they could only block each strike with the side of their cannon, and it wasn’t long before they staggered backwards when the effort to hold him back became too much to prolong. This time, it was _his_ chance at pursuit, and he made no delay in closing the gap between them. Ratchet swung at them as soon as he was in range, and when they ducked out of the way, he swung again, this time striking them in the arm and sending them stumbling sideways as their injured limb flickered at the contact.

“Ha! It _is_ just a hologuise!” Ratchet said. The Lombax’s stance had once again gone still, feet outspread to steady himself, but his muscles remained taut with energy he was more than willing to unleash at a moment’s notice. “So why don’t you quit hiding behind it and show me what a coward really looks like!”

Ratchet lunged forward again, wrench drawn back and ready to strike, when he gasped at a tingling sensation that began at his chest and spread outwards with frightening speed, numbing him until every inch of his body was paralyzed in place. He remained frozen in his battle stance as his wrench slipped free from his grip a moment later, falling with a metallic rattle to the ground.

His attacker removed the end of the cannon, still crackling with electricity, from his chest, and straightened to their full height in the unhurried manner of one whose victory was assured. He could feel their unseen gaze staring into him, but all he could manage in return was the weakest twitch of his lip. Ever so slowly, almost in hesitation, they extended a hand, and Ratchet flinched on the inside when a gloved fingertip made contact with his nose. They pushed, applying more force until he felt himself tipping backwards. He landed with a grunt flat on his back, his heart still hammering from this sudden turn of events.

Ratchet fought against the electricity holding him in place as a tingling almost like a particularly intense itch began to creep in where before he had been numb, but his body refused to cooperate. All he could manage was a twitch of the fingers or the slightest grimace of his lips. His eyes, in fact, were the only part of him that was still functional, and they attempted to lock onto his attacker just before they strode out of sight. His breathing grew quick and strained, the muscles in his chest constricting from the residual electricity still flowing through him, and he listened as their footsteps crunched on the gravel that had been forced aboveground during the brief battle. And, unless he was mistaken, he thought he heard the scraping of something being pulled free. The light footfalls began to grow louder again, and their cloaked form returned to his field of vision, each movement slow and deliberate. The Lombax’s heart leapt when he caught sight of the curved sickle hanging from one hand.

They lifted the weapon high in one steady motion, and Ratchet winced. And yet, the blow he expected never came, but instead faltered, and the figure lowered the primitive, and yet, he could imagine, frighteningly effective, blade back down to their side. Before he could comprehend the meaning behind their actions, they were gone, like smoke blowing in the wind, and he passed out.


	15. Is it Hot in Here, Or is it Just…

Everything was dark and cold. The last thing Ratchet remembered was a nighttime dash through the streets, but he didn’t recall exactly what it was he was running after, followed by the gentle sound of water. Then again, it wasn’t so much the sound itself that he remembered as the _idea_ of a sound. There had been spotlights, as well, but…what did any of it actually _mean_?

What did this continued _darkness_ mean, when he was certain the dream had ended? It _had_ only been a dream, right?

He reached out with his senses to gather further understanding of his current situation. He was lying down, that much he could tell. In a garden. Yes, that’s where the notion of the sound had been, but it was gone because it was nighttime. He supposed…he supposed gardens went to sleep at night, too.

It wasn’t a particularly frightening dream. Weird, yes, but weren’t they all? But his heart was pounding. Why was it pounding?

Redness, all he could see was a dim, distant redness, as if through curtains, and a muffled sound began. It was not…it was not the fountain. Of course, it wasn’t the fountain. It was gone.

The fountain was gone?

With a jolt, Ratchet’s eyes popped open, only to close once more when needles of light pierced his retinas. In that brief moment, he had caught a flash of something bright, illuminating a blur of colors he hadn’t the chance to make out.

He hadn’t… _died_ in that garden, had he?

He forced his eyelids to part once more, squinting in the light that assaulted him as a headache shot through his forehead. Nah, to his understanding, they didn’t have headaches in heaven. Now, on the other hand…

The Lombax’s large ears perked up when the same noise from earlier continued. Not the fountain, but a different, familiar kind of noise. A safe noise.

A round shape with two green orbs came into view overhead, and the sound repeated, louder this time.

“Ratchet, are you okay?”

A grin crept over Ratchet’s face. “Yeah, buddy.” His words came out hazy and slurred, as if his tongue had failed to wake up with the rest of him. “I’m…” his lips were dry, but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate long enough to lick them, “yeah, I’m fine.”

There was a pause as the form of Clank slowly sharpened into half-focus. “That is good,” the robot said at last. He didn’t sound entirely sure. “Would you like me to get you something? Chicken broth. Water, perhaps.”

“No,” was the first thing that came to mind. Ratchet’s attention had locked onto a poster for the vid comic Space Voyagers: The Vengeance on the wall behind the robot. He had one just like it. He tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. “Water, maybe.”

“Of course. I will return shortly.” The small shape dropped out of view just as Ratchet had taken to studying the double-barreled blaster displayed proudly above the poster. He had won it in a contest. Little did he realize when he had entered that it would be such cheap plastic. He really just kept it up there as a reminder of the second time he had ever won something rather than for the item itself. The first time was when he had accidentally been the one thousandth caller to the Kyzil Plateau’s local radio station. He had received a pen in the mail a week later with the station’s name on it. The ink had since run out years ago.

“Clank, come back.”

His friend returned in an instant, concern slanting his green optics. “Yes, is everything all right?”

“Yeah, uh…” the Lombax’s chest heaved in a long breath, “Did I…did I go anywhere last night?”

The tiny robot nodded his head in a slow fashion, as if he had just been asked to confirm a death sentence. “After you left to work on Aphelion last night, you failed to return, so I asked Captain Qwark to help me look for you. We found you unconscious in one of the Kerwan Horticultural Society’s public gardens.” Clank closed his optics and gave a small shake of his head. “Captain Qwark carried you home, and I inspected you to try and understand the nature of your injury. You appear to have suffered from a severe case of electrical shock. You are fortunate to be alive.”

Something clicked into place inside Ratchet’s head, though he remained silent, even after Clank had excused himself a moment later to retrieve the promised glass of water. No. He had seen him. He had been right there, and…he got away, didn’t he?

His friend returned a minute later, his presence noticeable only by the soft padding of footsteps on the carpet and a short arm lifting into view to set a glass of water upon the small table next to Ratchet’s bed. The Lombax felt the mattress shift as Clank pulled himself up to rejoin him.

“Do you need assistance sitting up?”

“No…er, maybe. Thanks.”

Once Ratchet was sitting upright with an extra pillow placed comfortably behind him, he refused his friend’s silent offer to place the cup to his lips and instead took it himself. And yet, even with so slight a weight, the Lombax’s arms felt like rubber, and he resorted to holding the cup to his mouth with both hands in almost the same manner as a toddler before resting it on his stomach.

Clank sat down on the bed, looking almost like a child’s teddy bear due to his meager size. “Do you feel strong enough to tell me what happened, or do you require more rest?”

He would find rest to be a very difficult thing right now. No, there was no better time than the present to get things done, especially when it came to divulging unpleasant details one would much sooner forget.

“Yeah, Clank, I’m ready. I…I saw him. The guy we’re after. The one who tried to kidnap Nefarious.” He had only regained consciousness no more than ten minutes ago, and his troubles were already flooding back to him. He took another gulp of water. “I just…remember seeing this…person off in the distance. He seemed suspicious, so I followed him. That’s…probably what he wanted, actually.” On hindsight, maybe that hadn’t been the best course of action. He forced out a weak laugh, but Clank made no move to join in. “He attacked me, and…” He trailed off, eyebrows knitting at a realization that just didn’t fit, and yet which was so unexpected, he wouldn’t have remembered it if it wasn’t so.

“You should not have gone after him alone,” the robot said. “He could have-”

Ratchet silenced him with a weak lift of his hand. “No, Clank, that’s the thing. You see… He could’ve killed me, but…he didn’t. I-I was paralyzed…by this electrical device he had, but when he had the chance to strike the finishing blow, he just…disappeared.”

The little robot continued to stare at him, but with lowered eyelids indicative of thoughts Ratchet would only have to wait to hear. “I see,” Clank said at last. “Interesting. Ratchet, did he ever say anything to you?”

“N-no. He never said a word.”

His friend put a finger to his chin. “This can only mean that we are on the right track,” he stood and paced to the far end of the bed before turning back to the Lombax. “We must assume that these actions were meant to be taken as a warning. He could have ended your life, but he did not. And the only reason I can see for attacking you would be because we are getting close to learning something he does not want us to know.”

Ratchet swallowed hard in his throat. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But how do you think he even knows what we’ve been up to?”

“We know this person is stealthy if he was able to sneak into Dr. Nefarious’ space station without his knowledge. I suppose tracking us would not be much trouble for him. I am almost certain he went looking for Dr. Nefarious after his escape. Once we joined forced with Lawrence and him, perhaps that is the moment this new villain took notice of _us_.”

“Wow, that’s a bit…creepy.”

Clank looked him in the eyes. “Ratchet, please be careful. This person might be even more dangerous than we first realized.”

Ratchet looked away. “Yeah, I know.”

“I am serious. Do not attempt to face him alone again-”

“Yeah, I _know_ , Clank.”

The little robot padded over to his friend’s side and sat down next to him. “I am glad you are okay, Ratchet.”

“Me, too, buddy.” Ratchet forced his mouth into a weak smile. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

“I could not help it,” Clank said and giggled. “Do you think,” he continued, his amusement fading, “that he will attempt to kidnap Dr. Nefarious again?”

Ratchet sighed. “I don’t even care right now.”

“The reason I mention it is…if he manages to recapture him…” the robot paused, optics growing wide, “I do not wish to think about what he might make Dr. Nefarious build for him.”

“Yeah, and that’s partly why I don’t want to think about that right now.” The Lombax closed his eyes and sighed, his head sinking deeper into the pillow behind him. “Doesn’t it just seem like…we’re not getting anywhere? I mean, all we’ve done so far is just wander from place to place. Do you think we’ll actually find anything useful on Virditia?”

“I suppose we will not know until we get there.” Clank smiled. “I also believe you are just tired.”

Ratchet shrugged, the corner of his mouth attempting to lift into a grin, but ultimately unable to hold its position for more than a second. “Maybe.”

The robot patted him on the shoulder. “Get some rest, Ratchet. Take as long as you need to recover. We do not need to leave until you are ready.”

Clank turned to drop from the bed, only to stop in his tracks when the door to Ratchet’s room burst open. The Lombax stiffened, his heart racing, until he recognized the intruder to be none other than Captain Qwark. Why the superhero appeared to be out of breath had yet to be determined.

“We’re…out of mayo…” The enormously-muscled man trailed off when he caught sight of the two now staring, dumbfounded, at him, and rubbed the back of his head, his charge into the room taking an early end with a lazy kick of the foot. “Oh, hey, Ratchet. Just thought I’d…check in on you. You look,” he shrugged, “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I guess.”

“Qwark? Why are you…still here?” Ratchet asked.

The superhero straightened as a large smile formed across his face for no discernable reason. “Why, I’ve been keeping watch, of course!” Qwark strode forward and planted massive fists on his waist. “If that villain returns to finish the job, I’ll be ready for him!”

Ratchet swallowed. “Finish…the _job_?” He felt sick.

“Captain Qwark has been…” Clank began, “worried about you.” The robot’s eyelids had since fallen at the man’s arrival, betraying a weariness that had not been there mere moments earlier. It was probably safe to say that _something_ had happened during Ratchet’s unconsciousness.

“Well, I…appreciate your concern, Qwark, but I think I’m safe now.”

For whatever reason, the superhero’s grin fell, and he grew stiff. Now what _had_ been going on since the Lombax had been…away?

“Eh, you can never be too sure, Ratchet.” The Captain waved a half-hearted finger at him. “Not…to worry you or anything, but...he could show up at any time, and I’d…I’d hate to leave you unprotected.”

Ratchet let out a long breath. He was too tired for this. “Anything _else_ , Qwark?”

The superhero shook his head.

“I really feel like you have something else you want to say.”

Qwark’s eyes rolled about, tracing the perimeter of the ceiling in a rather conspicuous display of furtiveness. “Okay, maybe…maybe there is _one_ thing. You know how…at that meeting yesterday…you said you knew where that evil-doer’s weapons came from?”

The Lombax nodded.

“Well, I don’t mean to lay blame, but…when you learned about this guy’s base of operations, you didn’t just put a target on _your_ head. You put one on _mine_ , as well! I know too much now, Ratchet, and if that villain finds out you have an even more legendary, even manlier, hero on your team, I’m next!”

Ratchet blinked back an encroaching urge to return to sleep. “Okay, Qwark. I was just curious.” He returned the glass of water to the table beside him and, rolling over onto his side, closed his eyes.

After a few moments, he heard Qwark’s muttered voice, “He’s not mad?”

“Captain Qwark, if you do not mind, Ratchet needs his rest.”

There was a pause. “What about the mayonnaise?”

“I will add it to the grocery list. Now please leave.”

Ratchet listened to the retreating footsteps of Qwark as Clank pulled the blankets up to his shoulders, a grin slipping over his face once he heard his bedroom door close with a quiet click. It was fortunate yesterday’s ordeal had not been fatal, for plenty of reasons besides the obvious. For one, he would have really missed that robot.

* * *

Magmos was easily one of the harshest planets to have ever graced the Solana Galaxy. Every inch of its surface was covered either in the lava it was named for or the volcanoes that birthed it. As such, the entire planet was in a constant state of change, trapped, as it were, in an endless turmoil as its surface was continually melted down by the intense heat of rivers and seas of lava and forced to join the all-encompassing lava flow, only to be carried miles upon miles elsewhere and deposited, where it would all cool to rock again. And the process would continue.

To say the planet was hot was like saying the core of an ice comet was anything less than frigid or that Metropolis was moderately overpopulated. That didn’t mean nothing lived here, for in all but the most unwelcoming environments could life be found, whether that be bacteria or lichen or other lower lifeforms that thrived where no intelligent species could.

The creatures that called Magmos home were scarcely above the lowest standard for sentience, just skittering crab-like monstrosities whose tough shells could survive a dip in the lava for an hour or more when the mood suited them. Dr. Nefarious, upon his initial inspection of the planet some years ago as the site of his newest lab, had made short work of ridding the surrounding area of the vermin. After a time, any that dared wander too close knew better than to linger long. If any one person could actually make so inhospitable a planet even less friendly to life, there would be no one more qualified than he.

The day of their arrival, if it could really be called day, had the unhappy coincidence of occurring during one of the planet’s rare, but violent, windstorms, a tempest so strong that it might have been the darkest hour of night for all the light that got through the billowing clouds of smoke and ash that engulfed them as soon as they had entered the planet’s atmosphere. As such, Lawrence was forced to navigate their small, and woefully inadequate, civilian vehicle through the dark clouds the volcanoes were constantly spewing, all the while battling fierce gusts of wind that threatened to send them hurtling miles off course in an instant.

Though the facility had, technically, been built from a reinforced metal that was supposed to be able to withstand the intense heat of lava, nothing could ever truly endure the harshness of nature forever, making it quite impossible to predict with any real accuracy how much of his laboratory would even be left waiting for them on the surface. As if Dr. Nefarious needed any more reasons to hate nature. Stumbling upon the wildlife channel at the impressionable age of five had been a mistake from which he had yet to fully recover. He had never quite gotten over his fear of the Sargassian horned lion. He could only hope that was _one_ secret of his that Lawrence had thus far failed to tell anyone!

Once they had sunk beneath the cloud layer, some small semblance of daylight was able to return, though flying in any sort of straight line even now proved impossible as they made for the facility that had just now become visible around the nearest mountain, one of few that carried no risk of potential eruptions. Apparently the butler’s assurance that he remembered the laboratory’s coordinates even after all these years had indeed been true, after all. With a level of precision Nefarious worked quite hard at not acknowledging any more than he could help it, Lawrence piloted the ship into the hangar where the storm could no longer interfere.

As soon as the windshield had slid back, Dr. Nefarious clambered forth from the cockpit, grateful to at last be on solid ground once again. Almost immediately upon making contact with the metal floor, however, he fell with all the speed of a stone sinking into a pond.

“Sir, I was thinking…” Lawrence began from where he remained in the pilot’s seat, only to pause as he looked about for his employer, whom he was certain had been present a mere moment ago. “Sir?”

Just like that, Nefarious popped back up again, remaining upright for only a second longer before falling backwards to clutch the ship behind him for support. “Blasted squishy legs! My foot’s fallen asleep! Why’d you have to pick such a cramped ship, Lawrence! Stupid fool!”

Lawrence continued to stare at the scientist a moment longer, before he, too, exited the ship. “Sir…” he began again, pausing as if to gauge the other’s focus as the supervillain beat his unruly foot on the ground in an effort to restore blood flow, “I…really must insist that we rethink the wisdom of remaining on Magmos for any extended period.” When he received no response but a preoccupied growl that could have been aimed at any number of things, Lawrence took several steps forward. “Do you need any assistance, sir?”

“No, stay away from me!” Nefarious pushed himself away from the ship and began to limp further inside the hangar, falling back into his usual, predatory, stride with the recovery of feeling to his afflicted foot before he had progressed more than ten yards.

“Sir,” Lawrence scrambled after the scientist’s gangly form, “as I’ve mentioned previously-”

“Then what need is there to repeat it?” It took all of the doctor’s willpower not to wipe away the beads of perspiration that had already begun to form on his brow. He had forgotten how hot this planet could be.

“We may have escaped from them last time, but the authorities will surely know to look for you here.”

The villain made an abrupt stop. As if anticipating this very thing, the robot managed to come to a halt a good ten feet behind him just as quickly. “And whose fault is _that_ , Lawrence?” he asked in a low voice. Without warning, Nefarious spun around in a graceless hop, a crooked grin crossing the meager width of his thin face that seemed to stand in stark opposition to his earlier tone. “What’s the matter? If anyone’s going to jail, it’s me. And if _I’m_ not worried, you shouldn’t be!”

Nefarious studied his butler’s expression with his fists planted on his waist. Normally, he would have expected a response, but Lawrence had been strangely quiet lately. So had he, but he couldn’t recall who had started it.

The scientist took a long stride forward. “And _who_ , exactly, do you think’s coming after us? The only people who have ever stopped me are Qwark and Ratchet, and we already know the fleabag and his metal lunchbox are too busy with their own problems to come trailing after me. As for Qwark, he’s a half-baked _loser_ whose career as a fake hero ended when _he_ became the villain.” Nefarious paused when a new revelation came to him. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about,” he released a high-pitched bark of laughter, “the _Rangers_! Those morons couldn’t tie their own shoelaces, let alone stop me!”

Still sniggering to himself, Nefarious attempted to continue on his away, only to be stopped once more.

“But sir…”, Lawrence said, one finger of his left hand raised, his words slow and calculated, “is that really a chance you’re willing to take? It is, after all, your freedom on the line.”

“You have yet to tell me one single thing about our situation that I didn’t already know, Lawrence. I am the greatest scientist in the universe. I will not be forced into hiding like some pathetic coward. Before long, I will be restored to my former glory, and then I’ll find the person responsible for this disgrace and have them screaming for mercy _years_ before it ever comes!”

The hangar echoed with the doctor’s maddened shriek. The silence that followed was interrupted by no more than the wailing of the wind outside and a deep breath with which he sought to restore his composure.

The grin from earlier returned to the doctor’s face, and when he spoke again, his voice had taken on a far softer, almost pleasant, tone rarely associated with the galaxy’s most feared supervillain, “I’m surprised at you, Lawrence. You should be more than familiar with the fact that I never let anyone get away with disrespect. No matter _who_ they are.” When he turned back to the robot, his butler went stiff under the scientist’s cold gaze and humorless smile.

“Check the perimeter for any weaknesses in our security, Lawrence! I don’t wish to waste any more of my valuable time on you.”


	16. The Burden of Being Bedridden

It took two days after Ratchet’s return to consciousness for him to be able to keep his eyes open for any extended period of time. While he remained weak even now and could not leave the warmth of his bed without assistance, his condition was improving with each passing day. Clank would have allowed no other outcome.

Perhaps it was his inability to understand injury or illness because it was a condition unique only to organics. Perhaps it was his great concern for his best friend. Whatever the case, the diminutive robot could be a little overzealous when it came to the Lombax he had come to know as closely as if they were brothers, and there were times Ratchet had to practically fight him off in order to preserve the last remaining shreds of dignity he still retained in his bedridden state. The offer for a sponge bath was entirely unnecessary, and Ratchet experienced his greatest wave of relief since finding he was still among the living when he finally managed to convince Clank that he was completely capable of bathing himself.

Being waited on hand and foot was, frankly, exhausting when Clank was involved. It was as if the robot believed his organic companion would perish without constant supervision and fluids and monitoring of his pulse, and Ratchet had been forced to feign sleep on occasion just so he could delay for just a little while longer Clank’s insistence that the majority of organic lifeforms required eight cups of water a day. He had never before realized how filling water could be.

Ratchet believed he was on cup number five when Clank had decided to dust his room for the third time since that morning to ensure the Lombax didn’t breathe in any “unwanted particulates”. The afternoon sun was shining through the open blinds of his bedroom window and warming the room to a pleasant temperature as Ratchet reclined upright in bed, backed with three pillows that had been recently fluffed. Qwark was still stationed in their living room, but as long as Clank continued to demand that the superhero leave his ailing comrade in peace, he supposed it could be worse.

As relaxing as most of this leisure time was, between the water, and the vitamins, he couldn’t forget that the real world was still out there. And the stronger Ratchet got, the more he thought about the problems that loomed ever larger with each passing day.

“Any word from Sasha, Clank?” he asked, eyeing the robot as his friend dusted every crevice of Ratchet’s 1:76 scale model of the infamous Star Vulture Death Cruiser from the movie Killer Talons from Sector 8. Sometimes the Lombax had to wonder if Clank really _wasn’t_ the only nerd out of the two of them. “Last I remember, she was going to send the Rangers after Nefarious.” A lot of good that would do. Even in the supervillain’s current state, he should have no trouble fending them off. A sufficiently loud “boo” should do it.

Clank turned from his work to acknowledge his friend’s query. “Why, yes. She contacted me about the matter two days ago. They should be well on their way to Magmos by now.” He paused, only to shake his head.

“You don’t have much faith in them, do you?”

“No, I do not.”

Ratchet sighed. They had come so close to stopping the crazed supervillain once and for all. He could just imagine what the galaxy would be like without that psychopath on the loose. And it would probably clear up…about a fifth of their schedule, as well. At least.

“Since we are on the subject,” Clank continued, “there is one other thing I do not believe I have told you yet. When President Phironix and I last spoke, she also informed me that one of the Galactic Ranger ships had been stolen.”

The Lombax’s ears twitched. “Stolen? Huh, that’s weird. And… _when_ did that happen?”

“It happened the night you were injured, as a matter of fact. I would…recommend exercising caution if we see any solo Galactic Ranger vessels in the near future.”

Ratchet grimaced, a funny sort of chill working its way through his stomach. “Right,” he breathed. “We’ll need to head off to Virditia in a little bit. And as we’ve figured out, _someone_ out there isn’t too happy about it.” He slid just a bit further underneath his sheets. “I’m _really_ tired of hero-work.” He forced out a chuckle. “What about you, Clank?”

Clank’s metallic face formed a weak smile, though there didn’t appear to be any true emotion behind it. “Ratchet…I am concerned about this new villain. Frankly, even when I _am_ present, you are fully responsible for fighting our enemies, so my absence during your…encounter the other night…it does not explain why you…”

“Lost, you mean? It’s okay, I know very well what happened.” Ratchet’s voice had grown soft as he watched the little robot, who had taken to twisting the feather duster between both hands. It appeared even robots were capable of developing nervous tics.

“Since…this person is clearly powerful, and you are already in a weakened state, I thought it would be prudent if…” Clank paused, studying the space beneath his friend’s bed for a second longer before looking upward again, “if Captain Qwark joined us. I know you are not overly fond of him, and…”

“That’s fine, Clank. Whatever you think is best.”

“…well, I suppose he is not…” Clank’s hands went still, and he blinked. “Are you sure this is all right with you, Ratchet?”

The Lombax nodded. “Yeah. I mean, we work best when it’s just the two of us, but that won’t be so easy until I’m totally better. In the meantime, I guess we need all the help we can get.” He smiled. “Even if it _is_ Qwark.”

This time, the robot’s own smile was far more genuine, though it was shaken from him a moment later when the door was flung open with an unnecessary amount of force. Speak of the…

“Just checking on your status, cadet!” Qwark grasped either side of the doorframe with his massive hands, his large bulk fully blocking out any view of the room beyond. If being a fake superhero ever didn’t work out, perhaps he should consider taking up a career as a door. “I was just doing my rounds of the, eh, perimeter, and I have confirmed that all is well.”

“That’s great, Qwark.”

“Yep, no evil-doers have been sighted today.”

“I’m glad.”

Qwark breathed in deeply through his nose. “The fresh, lemony-clean scent of justice still prevails.”

“That’s Clank’s wood-cleaner.”

The superhero glanced over as Clank held up the spray can in question before him.

“Oh. Well, no wonder my finely-tuned senses picked up something unusual in here.”

“Hey, Qwark…” Ratchet began, but was unable to continue when he was forced to clamp his mouth shut.

The Captain arched his eyebrows. “Yeah…”

It took several moments for the Lombax to regain his composure, but once he had, he was able to finish his sentence without hindrance. “Are you…are you _sure_ you checked the pantry thoroughly? I hear some Nefarious-supporters like to congregate in there.”

By now, Qwark’s mouth had twisted into a rather odd shape, his silence suggesting he may have been torn between suspecting this statement as mere jest or absolute truth. Before he could respond and Ratchet could discover with certainty which it might be, however, the superhero let out a high and undignified shriek when the doorbell rang.

Several dumbfounded seconds later, the enormous man’s face lit up, Ratchet’s suggestion apparently forgotten. “Oh, that must be the pizza delivery guy!”

With not even a word said in farewell, Qwark dashed out of the room.

“ _I_ want pizza,” Ratchet said.

Clank eyed him with the sternness of a mother. “Pizza is unhealthy, especially for one who is still in the middle of recovery. If you are hungry, I will prepare you some chicken broth.”

Feather duster and cleaning solution in hand, the robot headed out of the room. Ratchet had learned early on that he should never let Clank’s height and scholarly demeanor fool him. His friend was indeed a force to be reckoned with.

* * *

The first thing Dr. Nefarious had done once the main generators had been brought back online was arm himself with the most lethal blaster he could find in the facility’s weapons stores. There were far too many people in this universe who wished to see him dead, and though he didn’t exactly expect to see them _here_ , one could never be too careful. Plus, such a weapon could serve a secondary purpose in addition to its more obvious one, for in just the two short days since their return to Magmos, the bad news continued to pile up. While a gun would do very little in terms of stopping said news, it could, at the very least, take care of the messenger.

With the matter of self-preservation out of the way, the scientist had gotten straight to work drawing up revised blueprints for the Biobliteration cannon that would, at long last, return him to his rightful form, while Lawrence had been given the simple task of restoring the facility’s security. At least, it should have been simple, even for that dunderhead, but when one had purposely built a laboratory in one of the harshest places in the galaxy in order to avoid detection, it also meant that one had to expect that such an environment would double as a threat to one’s own resources, as well. In his defense, Nefarious had never planned to return here. In fact, he had a dozen or more abandoned laboratories scattered across the galaxy, his first being on Rilgar and which he very much suspected had disappeared beneath the muck by now. The only reason he had chosen this one to return to was _because_ of how inhospitable it was.

Nevertheless, just because the scientist hardly expected his old base on Magmos to have been completely preserved, that didn’t mean he had to like the state it was in, either. In fact, he made a habit of disliking as many things as he could. When one utterly hated everything in existence and expected treachery at every turn, one was far less surprised when things didn’t go his way. Was it unexpected that this particular lab was in an abysmal state of disrepair? No. No, it was not. But did it aggravate him? Absolutely! The universe had never liked him, after all, and the feeling was mutual.

In an involuntary slip in pessimism, the scientist was just beginning to think Lawrence had uncovered the worst of it when his butler poked his head back into the room for the third time that day. With a groan, Nefarious slammed the palms of his hands down upon the central computer console at which he currently stood, an unspoken sign that he had already surmised the general tone of the butler’s news, if not the details.

“I have uncovered the cause for the power failure in the facility’s main security array, sir,” was how the robot began. He looked about ready to leave right then and there. Perhaps he thought bad news disguised as its opposite was just as good as the real thing.

At this sad attempt to lure the scientist into a false sense of security, Nefarious presented Lawrence with a wordless glare, his mouth twisted into a crooked grimace, almost akin to one awaiting the pinch of a particularly large needle.

Once it was certain the butler would not be getting out of this, nor would he ever, he went on, “It appears a large section of our security grid has been taken out by a,” Lawrence pretended to clear his throat, “‘minor’ volcanic eruption, sir.”

“A…‘minor’ eruption?” Nefarious repeated, blinking slowly. “Since when is several cubic tons of molten rock exploding from a planet’s surface ever _‘minor’_?”

“It is when, in comparison, an even more powerful eruption would have taken out the entire base. We’re lucky any part of this place remains at all, considering the lab’s shields have been inactive all these years.”

The scientist leaned one hand upon the console next to him, one foot crossing the other. “Well, can it be repaired or not?”

“I don’t believe so, sir,” Lawrence said. “The damage is too great, I’m afraid. Under the circumstances, I really must insist that we leave while we still can. There is nothing keeping our enemies from reaching us, aside from several automated turrets, though they, too, are in an abysmal state.”

“I’m not leaving until I’ve fixed the grievous mistake nature made when I was born a pathetic squishy! Only then can I exact my vengeance on…whoever did this to me and everything they’ve ever held dear!” Nefarious’ free hand clenched into a fist, only to go slack a second later. Though neither’s stance had changed since their arrival on this forsaken place, the intensity of their convictions had cooled since yesterday. At least, his had.

“Sir, for all we know, Ratchet and Clank are going to arrive on Magmos any time now, and you are in no state to stop them. They almost had you arrested just a few days ago, and we only escaped by virtue of some astounding luck. Magmos is not the safe haven you think it is, and I, for one, don’t find it prudent to wait here until our luck runs out.”

The scientist released a bitter laugh. _Luck_? Since when had that word ever applied to him? With an exaggerated shrug, he turned back to the computer console and the virtual blueprints that hung suspended in the center of the room. What he had managed to duplicate from memory, at least. “Then don’t.” He tapped a few keys to expand one particular section of the cannon’s base.

“Sir?”

Nefarious continued to study the cannon’s main power core with a practiced eye as he sought to rectify the shortcoming. “If you don’t want to be here, then, leave. I’m not stopping you.”

There was a pause, and when Lawrence spoke up again, his words were of the slow and careful logic of one coaxing someone into not jumping from a great height. “I know how important restoring your body is to you, sir, but we have no choice but to leave and take our chances elsewhere. Trust me when I say I have only your best interests in-”

“Oh, just drop it, Lawrence!” Nefarious struck the console with one fist, though it came several moments too late to have any real impact. “How many times have I been forced to listen to this? I’m _not_ changing my mind, and there would be no danger if _you_ didn’t have to open your big mouth and tell our enemies where we were headed!” The scientist spun back to face the other, his fists clenching hard enough that he almost thought he heard his knuckles crack. “If anything happens, it’ll be _your_ fault! Do you really not get it?”

Lawrence said nothing, his normally smug expression replaced by something Nefarious didn’t see on the robot’s face too often. Was it shock? Or something stronger? It was about time. It was about time his butler looked at him like _this_ , instead of with the lazy coolness of one dealing with a bad-mannered child.

It was about time he did something about it. Or what kind of supervillain was he?

The robot tried to take a step back, to extricate himself from a situation for which even he, for once, had no snide remark, but he was stopped by what Nefarious had to say next.

“I’ve noticed, Lawrence. The disc.” Though the doctor’s voice came out in a hiss, its low volume was not enough to remove the edge from those words.

Lawrence remained silent at first, and when he did respond, it was only to ask, “Pardon?”

“Who do you think could have possibly taken it?”

“The disc…containing your memories, sir?”

Nefarious took a step forward, one thin finger jabbing the air before him. “Yes, _that_ one, you twit! Did you steal it in my sleep? Think you can use all my embarrassing secrets against me? Maybe you gave it to _her_.”

Lawrence arched his eyebrows. “ _Her_?”

“That…that woman,” Nefarious shook his fist as he attempted to recall the name. “ _Ophelia_. I saw how you carried on with her, how you both _teased_ me even when I was within earshot. I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Lawrence.”

“Sir, I…assure you, I didn’t take the disc. I wasn’t even aware it was missing until now.” The robot lifted his hands in front of him. “Perhaps you simply misplaced it. Do you-”

“It was gone since the moment we arrived, Lawrence!”

They both stared at each other, the scientist’s teeth bared in an almost animalistic snarl that would instill doubt into anyone who thought his organic form was any less deadly than the robot the galaxy had come to fear. Nefarious caught the slightest twitch in his butler’s stance, the first indication of an imminent retreat. Grabbing the closest thing within reach, a loose wrench, he lunged after the robot with a growl, his eyes ablaze. Before his butler could get very far, Nefarious had smashed him over the head with all his strength.

Lawrence fell to the ground, the fact that he was a robot the only reason he was still conscious after such a blow. He held one hand up in front of him for protection. “Sir, do calm down. Think about what you’re saying. Have I not already proven my loyalty to you?”

“ _Loyalty_?” Nefarious practically spat the word. “Loyalty? I’ve caught on to you, Lawrence! Maybe being forced to work alongside our enemies was for the best because it’s finally made me realize what a _traitor_ you are!”

Lawrence winced when Nefarious, in a brief moment of clarity, tossed the wrench aside and snatched his blaster from his belt to aim it with deadly precision at the robot’s head. Though his finger tightened on the trigger, he was unable to exert the force necessary to fire. Even now, the metallic clanging signifying the wrench’s collision with the floor continued to ring out like a dying alarm.

“Get out, Lawrence,” Nefarious said through clenched teeth. “Don’t let me ever see your face again.”

Taking advantage of this one small mercy afforded him, Lawrence scrambled to his feet and fled the room without argument.

He had started down the path of a supervillain alone; he could continue it alone.


	17. In Hot Pursuit

After Lawrence had been sent scrambling once his employment had been terminated, it occurred to Dr. Nefarious that he might very well be the last person left on the planet.

As soon as his butler had gone, he had returned to his work with a renewed vigor. There were no longer any distractions left to keep him from his task, and the unfortunate circumstances surrounding his vulnerable state here in his old base on Magmos could be more or less forgotten without the robot’s constant reminders. No one could find him here. The only one who had ever done so was Captain Qwark, and that was only after he had, somehow, managed to cling to their ship the entire flight between here and Rilgar. How a mere squishy could hold his breath, not to mention survive the vacuum of space, for three straight days was, admittedly, one detail that had haunted the scientist for a good many years now.

Even so, it was highly improbable that moron could find him again, and as for anyone else, well, Magmos was a big place. Just because his enemies knew what planet he was on, that didn’t mean they could find his laboratory. And by the time they did, _if_ they did, he would be long gone.

By then, his organic form would once again be but an unfortunate memory, replaced by the robot he should have always been. And then he was leaving Magmos behind to find the one who did this to him. There were too many people who had wronged him and gotten away with it. It was something he regretted had become a bit of a habit over the years. But this was not going to be one of those times.

The supervillain worked night and day, with small breaks brought about by involuntary fits of sleep he seemed entirely unable to prevent. Though his work had been the encompassing thing on his mind, it was two days later that his focus slipped, and he found himself, at last, at a standstill. His Biobliteration cannon, now so close to completion, was missing something vital, without which it might as well have been a useless hunk of scrap metal. He had worked around it for as long as he could, but he could avoid the issue no longer.

Changing the molecular structure of lifeforms was a tricky process. Even so, he had perfected it many years ago when he had first invented the Sheepinator as some kind of personal joke. Since most people were mindless sheep anyway, he had reasoned at the time, it would make no difference in the end if they looked like one, as well. For even so simple a modification as this, however, the device had required a great deal of energy. And that was only for changing the composition of organic material. Changing an organic into something inorganic was another matter entirely. It required vast amounts of concentrated energy, the kind of energy one found in solar flares and dwarf stars. Even this planet’s endless supply of lava couldn’t compete with that.

His Biobliterator had been invented sometime after he had abandoned his lab on Magmos. He had simply not possessed such technology back then.

Dr. Nefarious, his earlier fervor at a halt, had since retired to a chair, where he had taken up the fruitless act of staring at the nearly-completed, yet lifeless, device, one hand clutching the bottom half of his face. A soft, electrical hum emanated from the hologram of the cannon’s blueprints still hanging in the middle of the room, its presence no longer needed, but there, nonetheless. All the thinking in the universe would get him nowhere at this point. He knew what remained, and Magmos had run dry of resources.

Jumping to his feet, the scientist planted his fists on his waist with no shortage of theatrics. “I suppose the answer is obvious. I’ve remained on this blasted planet for long enough.” He rubbed the palms of his hands together and went on, once again, to the empty room. “Yes, if I plan to restore my body, all that’s left is a suitable power source, and…” He paused, as if expecting some sort of reply. When he received nothing of the sort, he let his hands fall back to his sides with a growl. “If Lawrence was here, I’d have the fool complete the errand for me. It was the only thing he was ever good for.” The room remained silent, and the doctor’s hands curled into fists. “But I have no need of traitors! Why leave to others what you can do yourself!” A dull refrain of his own shout echoed back at him that served as the closest thing to a response one could expect under the circumstances.

With the assurance that no argument could be devised to respond to this logic, Nefarious marched out of the lab, returning several minutes later with a hover-carrier. With the careful maneuvering of the robotic arm tucked into the ceiling, he transferred the Biobliteration cannon to the transporter and proceeded to push it out of the room and down the corridor.

The facility’s halls, when no one else was around, appeared much longer, and much narrower, than they had in the past. It was a thought that passed into his mind as he strode by countless doors and countless other corridors that intersected his own. A thought that, once there, had latched itself in place and refused to leave. He knew the contents of these rooms. It had been years since he had worked here, had performed his experiments away from the rest of civilized society. Perhaps the exact details were fuzzy, but the general idea was not. Extra laboratories. Storage closets. A factory for creating security drones he had since suspected and had since confirmed to be in line with his former butler’s original assessment that it would not be worth anyone’s time to try and bring back online. Not after much of the floor had collapsed, a large percentage of the machinery lost with it.

There was also his office and his bedroom and a kitchen, and all those other sorts of things that seemed rather mundane inside of a top-secret facility, because after all the things he had done, his base had to become his home, for to show his face in any populated city would start the blaring of sirens and bring the authorities running.

There were fools who asked why he didn’t just give up the life of a supervillain. In the end, all his plans had come to naught, they would remind him, and though this was true, he couldn’t comprehend how they could make such naïve statements.

He had lost that option the moment he had set the Amoeboids loose on Blackwater City. He had lost it plenty of times prior and countless times since.

The first time he had committed one of the types of crimes from which there was no return, he had just been upset. Back then, he couldn’t properly determine whether or not he would have even followed through with it had the Galactic Rangers not intervened. That first act had been poor judgement spurred by desperation. Every time that came after…now that was on purpose. Every other time, he had relished every second of it until his inevitable failure. But that very first act of villainy, he didn’t recall being able to sleep the night before, and his hands had been shaking once the fated morning had arrived. That time had been different.

He arrived at the hangar, its location discovered by pure intuition and barely perceptible memories. The sooner he got off this planet, the better. He loaded his Biobliteration cannon into the rear storage compartment of the nearest small, transport ship and crawled into the cockpit, strapping himself in before pressing the ignition. Just as he was pondering his next destination, it occurred to him that something very important to his endeavors had not taken place.

A second press of the ignition, which took place after the control panel had received a slam from his fist for good measure, provided the same result. Typical. Growling and muttering a good number of unpleasant things to himself, Nefarious exited the ship and proceeded to inspect the exterior for some sign of the cause. Within moments, he spotted a large, sludgy pool beneath the ship he had not noticed until now, too focused his mind had been on escaping this abysmal planet to pay much heed to such seemingly insignificant details as this. Further scrutiny allowed him to confirm exactly what he had feared, a hole roughly five inches in diameter that had melted through the fuel tank.

Nefarious inspected all of the ships, nearly a dozen, in this manner, surmising with frightening haste that none of them were fit for space travel. Apparently years spent left to rot in an immensely hot, immeasurably harsh, environment wasn’t the most ideal place for space-faring vehicles. Go figure.

It was in that moment that a horrifying revelation came to him. Just a couple days prior, Lawrence had left with the only functioning ship.

The scientist picked up a random piece of debris from the crumbling ceiling above and tossed it with all his might at the nearest ship. Even with all the force he had put behind it, it merely bounced off the glass cockpit with an ineffective “plink’. Thinking better of kicking the very same ship when such a display would only hurt him more than it would the object of his rage, he settled for releasing a ragged snarl before falling to his knees.

“What manner of bad luck is this?” he asked the hangar floor. To be stranded twice was bad enough, first on an asteroid and then on a perpetually stormy planet infested with flesh-eating plants. But a _third_ time?

“Stupid twit, Lawrence, the traitorous…” from there, his tirade devolved into a profanity-laced string of gibberish that held no real sense, even if the meaning was clear as he pounded the floor with one fist.

No, this could be fixed. He’d just build a time machine, and he’d fire Lawrence again, but this time, _he’d_ take the ship and leave his butler behind.

Right, he had already tried time travel. It didn’t exactly work out.

“Why do all the bad things happen to me?” Nefarious said, his voice coming out in a sob. But of course, there was no one around to answer. And even when there had been, they had never provided any good answers, instead hanging on the insistence that this wasn’t true to begin with. Had they seen him now, perhaps they wouldn’t be so hasty in their assurances.

When it became more than apparent that sitting on the floor was in no way getting him any closer to leaving this planet behind, the scientist pushed himself to his feet and brushed himself off. He was a genius. No, a super-genius. And if anyone could discover some alternate power source for his cannon, there was no one better suited for the job than he.

Once he was a robot again, he’d find another way off Magmos. Yes, that’s exactly what he’d do. It was so simple, it was practically guaranteed.

And once the scientist’s plans were back on track, perhaps he could work out another way of stranding Lawrence on the most disturbing planet imaginable.

* * *

Long before Dr. Nefarious was Dr. Nefarious, but rather went by the mundane sort of name mothers give their children, and which one learns to dread the utterance of, especially in its entirety, for it so often meant a scolding was at hand, he was an ordinary boy living in an ordinary apartment high above the streets of Metropolis. Or more accurately, he wasn’t ordinary, it was just his existence that was, and no one had yet to acknowledge that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, after all, for someone to differ so much from everyone else.

That wasn’t to say that the boy he used to be was completely immune to at least some of the normal traits that plagued so many others his age. As was the norm for all but the bravest, or least imaginative, children in the universe, his younger self had plenty of fears. It was just that, in his case, these fears were exaggerated beyond what was socially accepted, making even his normal traits not as ordinary as he might have preferred.

Simply being in the presence of others was one thing that had brought him no shortage of anxiety all those many years ago, for the stares they directed his way never failed to make him feel like a lab rat under the cold scrutiny of a scientist. An ironic analogy, to be sure. He had also been afraid of the dark, but that, at least, seemed to be a pretty common childhood phobia.

Many children found a special toy comforting, or a familiar blanket. For him, it was logic that had comforted the young genius when times seemed most bleak. Logic was the only thing that helped make his problems seem just a bit smaller, just as it was logic that told him there was no way anything could have snuck into his closet or underneath his bed without his mother or him knowing.

Of course, Dr. Nefarious had no such fears now. If anyone looked at him the wrong way, he could end their existence right then and there. And he was certainly, absolutely, not afraid of the dark.

He had no need to fear _anything_ anymore, for a scientist, a super-genius, no less, had logic in spades, and logic told him that an empty and abandoned facility on an uninhabited planet was the safest place one could be. Why, any distant noise he heard was surely the creaking of an old building surviving beyond its years. Beams might shift with sudden movement overhead and bits of rubble might fall to the ground from crumbling ceilings, and though such things were not ideal, they went a long way in explaining any sound that was not immediately recognizable.

Okay, perhaps it wasn’t the _safest_ place to be, but that decaying, old laboratory on Myr-the rainy planet where his butler and he had so recently been stranded was hardly in better shape, and no sudden structural collapse had killed him then.

There had been no lava on that planet, but the carnivorous plants were no worse.

No better. No better, he meant. What _did_ he mean?

That door down the hall, the third one on the right, had been left open since at least before his butler’s termination. Lawrence had probably neglected to close it. He was unreliable. He couldn’t even be trusted to keep his yap shut.

While Dr. Nefarious had lost track of time in this windowless, silent laboratory of his, these past unspecified number of days had been filled with a nearly uninterrupted series of experiments in order to devise an alternate power source for his cannon, most of which involved the lava that was so abundant on Magmos. Fortunately, he had an easy way of obtaining the molten substance that did not require him to venture into the furnace-like heat of outside, thanks to a diverted lava tube he had connected to a pipe that led directly to this room, among others.

How many times had people told him that he was going somewhere quite similar to Magmos one day? Frankly, he had lost count. Good thing he didn’t believe in such things.

Robots didn’t die, so he had nothing to worry about. Provided he was returned to his robot form before then.

What was he saying? He wasn’t _that_ old.

While none of these experiments had, thus far, been able to power the Biobliteration cannon for any consistent period of time, he was growing ever closer to the solution he sought, as each experimental fuel cell had proven more stable than the last. And stability was exactly what he needed, for if the cannon failed midway into the Biobliteration process…he shuddered to think what might happen.

He was just in the middle of performing several recalculations on a barely-functioning computer when the laboratory’s power failed.

Nefarious looked up from his work, the only source of light the glow emanating from his newest prototype fuel cell, which had fallen to the floor at the loss of its containment field. Pushing his chair back, he made his way over to where the fuel cell continued to roll lethargically and picked it up. He frowned down at the glowing white plasma that floated inside, its immense heat feeling like no more than a slight warmth by the time it had permeated the triple-reinforced glass and reached his gloved hand.

One great benefit of building one’s base on a planet comprised of millions of active volcanoes, besides the ironic safety factor, was the endless supply of geothermal power. And even if some recent eruption had melted through the underground power lines, the backup generators should have come online at the exact moment of a power failure. In fact, due to Lawrence’s overly-cautious absurdity, his former butler had insisted that they keep two sets of backup generators, considering the planet’s volatile nature. As such, there was no reason he should have to be groping about in the dark.

Did the Lombax really track him here, after all, when he currently had another villain to deal with? Or was Qwark…no, surely not. That idiot still believed that their rivalry was at a standstill ever since they were forced to work together on Magnus. The Galactic Rangers? Now that was even _more_ laughable than the idea of the bumbling “superhero” hunting him down.

His eyes widened behind his glasses when a realization struck him. Now that _was_ possible. And to think, he would have preferred _any_ of the others.

Yes, logic comforted him in most circumstances. But this was not one of them.

The doctor’s mind cycled through all the options available to him, discarding those he knew would be futile. He was in no condition to fight anyone. And escape was impossible. He had already confirmed that none of the ships in the hangar were functional.

Ah, but there was _one_ way off Magmos. Perhaps if he could make it to their ship, he could leave this blasted planet, after all, a plan which had the secondary benefit of stranding them in the process.

No, he had already tried that. He had, well…what had really happened was… Okay, okay, fine, Lawrence, ugh…Lawrence had stolen his attacker’s ship after his…capture a couple months ago, leaving his newest enemy abandoned on an uninhabited planet, as far as he knew. And that hadn’t been enough to prevent them from tracking him here. He needed to put a stop to this once and for all. Now was his chance for revenge, and he wouldn’t need to wait until his robotic form was restored in order to enact it.

Nefarious stiffened when his ears picked up the unmistakable tapping of footsteps in the distance. This should have been perfect. Let them come to him, if only to save himself the trouble of hunting them down at a later time. So why was his heart beating so fast? A supervillain such as himself was certainly not a coward. People feared _him_ , not the other way around.

His initial plan, the one that involved stealing their ship and leaving them here to rot. It still stood. There was no reason he couldn’t just finish them off later. Yes. Yes…no. No, annihilate them first. Leave Magmos after.

Drawing his blaster from his belt, the scientist left the fuel cell behind on the nearest worktable before retreating to the wall across from the lab door. They were nearing his location. This, he could tell from the increasing volume of those sure and steady footsteps that were far too casual for his liking. He had no time for preparations. He could only hope that he would be the one to fire the first shot.

Nefarious attempted to slow his breathing and the hammering of his heart, which threatened to drown out the intruder’s approach. The wait felt like an eternity, but by the time the sound had stopped, it was too late to react.

The laboratory door burst open, its crumpled form flying a dozen feet through the air before sliding with a screech across the floor, where it eventually came to a halt inches from his feet. Once the initial shock had worn off, the scientist attempted to aim for the doorway, but nerves made him misfire when a brilliant, crackling ball of electricity came his way. This, he managed to avoid through sheer instinct as he threw himself out of the way. It was a second shot that caused him to trip over something he could scarcely make out in the darkness, a chair or some other object that would have been no hindrance in better circumstances, and he fell hard to the ground, his outstretched arms doing little to prevent the breath from being knocked from him.

His mind reeling, all he could think of was the fact that, in that initial brief flash of light, a dark, shrouded figure had been illuminated, a figure whose face he could not make out. In all honesty, he didn’t recall seeing a face at all.

Nefarious pushed himself to his knees, unwilling to stand and make himself a target once more. He kept low to the ground as he scrambled alongside the wall with the safety of tables and lab equipment between him and his assailant, not daring once to fire back and make his location known.

It was in the moments that followed that some semblance of logic managed to reform in his mind, and it told him two things. One, the impossibility of a faceless attacker was really not important right now. And two, in such a situation where one’s kidnapper, who had already proven to be more than a match in the past, had returned to finish the job, the only logical response was to run.

With his ears still ringing and his head throbbing even now from the fall, Nefarious grasped the wall beside him and pulled himself to his feet, bumping into the corner of a table in the blackness as he attempted to locate where his attacker had gone since his tumble. But the darkness, aside from the distant glow of the fuel cell, was too complete for him to discern much of anything. All he could make out was the softest shuffle of movement somewhere to his left. The fact that this person, whoever they were, wanted him alive was hardly comforting, even if it was most likely the only reason he still was.

The doctor took several, hurried steps backwards as he attempted to increase the distance between him and his enemy, his hand brushing over something that stuck out on the wall in the process, something circular. After a second, an idea clicked into place in his mind, and a crooked grin crossed over the scientist’s face as he grasped the wheel with both hands and turned. With the only warning a guttural gurgle like that of some massive creature as the valve was opened, lava began to burst forth from the pipe in an unhindered flow.

The temperature in the room climbed instantly, the darkness simultaneously giving way to a shimmering orange radiance that revealed the dark figure dancing wildly backwards to avoid the encroaching flow of molten rock that had already created a sweltering river between them.

So much for his experiments.

As much as he would have liked to remain, to witness their demise firsthand and assure himself that his revenge was complete, there was no time to hesitate if he planned on escaping what he had set in motion. Without thinking, the scientist snatched his prototype fuel cell from where it had rolled across the table amidst the commotion and fled the room.

Nefarious ran through the lightless halls of his facility with ragged breath, blaster returned to his belt and his free hand brushing the wall to his right to provide some bearing in the darkness, the fuel cell’s glow serving to illuminate a foot or two in front of him, but nothing more. Why he had bothered to save it, he wasn’t certain. It would do him little good without his Biobliteration cannon, and if he could find his enemy’s ship, he could seek out a proper power source instead.

If they were dead, as they very well should be, that would save him a great deal of trouble down the road. All that remained was the restoration of his body, and then…and then he’d figure out where to go from there.

Where _did_ a supervillain, who was completely broke, go from here anyway?

Nefarious slowed to a halt at a pair of intersecting corridors and doubled over to catch his breath. Once he was outside, he was certain he could find the intruder’s ship with little trouble. He could tolerate the heat for as long as it took if it meant getting off this miserable planet. He only needed to decide which direction to go. This was _his_ old base, after all, and a little power outage was certainly not going to make him forget his way around.

The exit was to the right. Yes, he was certain of it.

The scientist headed off in his chosen direction, his pace slowed to that of a brisk walk. Now that the racket of his dash through the halls had ended, an eerie silence had settled in to join the darkness, two companions whose concurrent presence never boded well for anyone. Silence should have been comforting, but too often it seemed merely to serve as an omen of things to come. Or really, it wasn’t the silence that was the problem, but the anticipation of the very moment that it ends.

Not ten minutes had passed when that first indication that his premonition would ring true came to light in the form of a single, reverberating thud that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The source was revealed a second later when a grate burst open overhead, the object proceeding to rattle to the floor just before the dark figure fell in silence to the ground a mere few feet away, their robes not so much as fluttering in the descent.

Now that wasn’t right.

“Y-you should be dead!” Nefarious said, his voice cracking. He took a step backwards, hand drifting to the blaster at his belt. “I can assure you, if you think you’re going to use me, you’ve got another thing coming.”

These words echoed off into the darkness as the figure straightened from their fall and stared back at him with that perplexingly featureless face. If, in that moment, someone had told him that he was losing his mind, perhaps, for once, he would have believed them.

When they refused to speak, he drew his blaster and fired several shots. Though his aim proved true in such close proximity, a shimmering blue barrier appeared in an instant to absorb the shots.

“You will obey…willingly,” a breathy whisper emanated from the figure’s mouthless face as a sickle was drawn forth with a screeching of metal, “once I’m through with you.”

The scientist felt a queasiness settle in his stomach. Perhaps it was time he returned to his earlier plan.

With dignity the furthest thing from his mind. Dr. Nefarious took off running in the opposite direction as fast as his spindly legs would allow, turning the next corner with a squeak of his boots on the smooth floor. It took only a moment before the hammering of a second pair of footsteps sprung to life to join his own. Forget the ship. Forget his escape from Magmos. He could accept this place just fine as long as he had all his limbs intact.

As far as how he planned to survive long enough, there was only one room he could think of that his pursuer might not be able to follow. Provided he could devise a solution for this little power problem he was having.

Nefarious caught sight of an orange glow peering around another corner up ahead, and once he had rounded it, the entry to his former laboratory came into view. Or, more precisely, the egregious state he had left it in. He skirted around the sluggish flow of lava oozing forth from the doorway and searched his memories for the exact location of the facility’s main control room. As the name suggested, this was the veritable nerve center of his base. It controlled the security, the production of his soldiers, and even the carefully coordinated opening and closing of subterranean pipes that served to divert the magma whenever it threatened to venture too close.

Due to the great importance of this room, it was also the most secure. The door, heavily reinforced as it was, would be useless without power, but he suspected he might have just the thing to fix that.

With the gap between his pursuer and himself decreasing, Nefarious came upon the stairwell that led to the facility’s upper floor. The aging metal steps almost seemed to bounce beneath his feet and created a staccato of metallic thuds that reverberated in the towering space. By now, he was gasping for breath, but it was the reminder of that blade that remained a vital factor in keeping him moving when his muscles yearned to give up. He would find out soon enough whether or not his plans would succeed, and he certainly couldn’t give up from exhaustion now.

As he neared the top, he paused to fire a few shots over the railing, which missed with an astounding inaccuracy. Finding moving targets to be beyond his abilities at the moment, he aimed next for a weak spot between the steps a short distance down where the obvious effects of rust had begun to run its course.

A few hits was all it took to break through the already corroded metal, causing the stairs below to slant awkwardly downward where they had been severed, the corresponding support on the other side groaning with the increased weight it was now forced to bear. Before he could finish the job, a gloved hand gripped the bottommost step of what remained of the staircase.

Abandoning his efforts at hindering his enemy’s progress, Nefarious darted up the final steps and down the last stretch of corridor to the control room door, which he pulled open with the last of his waning strength. With the fuel cell’s light to guide him, he made for the main console in the center of the room. Tugging open a lower compartment, he worked to disconnect a number of wires from the previously hidden circuit board.

The metallic clattering of footsteps renewed itself, and normally steady hands fumbled to reconnect the wires to the fuel cell’s terminals. As soon as he had completed the connection, a shower of sparks forced him to withdraw his hands before they could be singed, the first sign that his efforts might have proven successful a dim light that pervaded the control room, which flickered to darkness just once before returning with increased strength.

Nefarious jumped to his feet and threw his arms into the air in an impromptu victory dance. This brief display was cut short when he noticed the door had not slid shut of its own accord, but rather, remained open, even now, as the footsteps hammered down the last stretch of hallway. With a shriek, Nefarious dashed forward and slammed the button beside the doorway with one fist. The door began to slide closed with a hiss, only to slam to a halt when an arm thrust itself through what remained of the opening at the last second.

The scientist let loose a shrill cackle. “Think again, you halfwit!” The doctor struck the arm with the end of his blaster as hard as he could, forcing his attacker to pull their injured limb free and allowing the door to slide shut the rest of the way, the brief sucking of air indicating the room had been sealed from outside forces.

Shaking, Nefarious leaned against the door with one quivering arm, his mind numb after so near an escape. The hum of electricity could be heard behind him, never before so comforting a sound, but nothing could he detect to indicate what might be going on in the corridor beyond. How long they would wait, he had no idea. But let them. There was nothing they could do to reach him now.

Pushing himself away from the door, he wandered in a wavering path to the central console and, with a twirl, fell back against it and slid to the floor, his thin chest continuing to heave even now that his flight through the base had ended. A kidnapper with no face. Ha! Maybe he really was crazy.

That’s what everyone had always said. And for how long could such a large number of people be wrong?

A giggling burst from the scientist’s lips without warning, a hysterical, mad giggling like that of a child whose uncle had just stolen their nose.

Is that really what they had come all this way for?

With a brief pause to think this over, Nefarious doubled over cackling at some joke only he knew.

He’d rather be crazy than dead.


	18. A Long Time Coming

Roughly a week had passed since Ratchet’s unfortunate encounter with their faceless foe. In that time, he had regained the strength necessary to walk about his and Clank’s shared apartment largely unaided, and the tightness in his muscles brought about by severe electrical shock had all but faded. What remained were two things, an intermittent, but equally worrisome, fluttering in his heart where the electrical cannon had made contact, which he had yet to tell Clank about, and doubt. He thought the doubt might have been the worse of the two.

Though he would be lying to say that he was truly in fighting condition once again, or even in the proper condition for moving faster than a quick hobble, their return to the mission at hand was long past due. His robotic friend had only agreed to their early departure on the grounds that the Lombax would not exert himself any more than was necessary. He didn’t think that was a promise he could break if he wanted to.

Ratchet awoke the morning of their departure stiff like usual, a grimace working its way along his lips as he forced himself up and out of bed. For once, Clank was not here to help him out of his PJ’s and into his clothes, the reason apparent as soon as he had left his room and entered the kitchen.

“Good morning, Ratchet,” Clank said in acknowledgement as he twisted lids back onto condiment jars that had been left open on the kitchen counter from the added height granted him by a stepstool. “I do hope you slept well.”

“Yeah, uh…” the Lombax paused to eye the crumbs littering the countertop that his friend had yet to clear away. “What’s going on? You making breakfast or something?”

“Actually, Captain Qwark was up early this morning, preparing sandwiches for our trip.” The robot reached for a dishtowel and, when he was unable to take hold of it from where he stood, settled for brushing the crumbs into the awaiting sink with his hand. “When he finished, he insisted he had something important to work on, and he is now in my room.”

Ratchet stepped forward, hands held out before him. “I got these.”

Clank hugged the jars close to his chest and shook his head. “That is all right, Ratchet. You should rest up before we leave.”

“Just hand ‘em over, okay?”

Ratchet grabbed the jars when his friend relented and carried them over to the fridge. “What could Qwark possibly need to work on right now?” he asked, as much to himself as his comrade. He highly doubted even Clank could come up with a guess as to what the superhero could be doing that would be considered “important”.

It seemed the answer to his query had arrived sooner than expected when the door to his friend’s room burst open. With all the grandeur that could only be attributed to his bulk and not to the man himself, Captain Qwark strode forth with his head held high and his famous green leotard adorned with a curious spattering of paint splotches in a variety of colors.

“I have it!” the superhero said, his already loud voice booming through the apartment. “While _you two_ have been busy with…whatever it is part-time heroes do, I’ve been devising my most cunning plan yet!”

“For _what_?” Ratchet asked as he shuffled over to sit on the armrest of the couch. Knowing Qwark, this could take a while.

Qwark raised one hand to silence him. “Now, now, please hold your questions until the end of the presentation.” Planting his fists on his waist, he went on, “If we’re going to successfully infiltrate Virditia, we need to be ready for whatever those antisocial weirdos can throw at us. And so, my amazing mind has just created a strategy that will not only guarantee our victory, but one in which I will look incredibly handsome while doing it. And now, without further…” Pausing when he realized that his hands were empty, he took to patting at himself as he sought to locate some currently undisclosed item. When even this failed to make the mystery object known, he turned back to them as the Lombax and robot pair exchanged baffled glances. “Uh, one moment…”

With just a short delay involving a dumbfounded stare that found itself right at home on Qwark’s large features, he lifted one leg and dashed back into Clank’s room. Ratchet leaned to the left in an attempt to peer inside, but the man returned seconds later, a proud grin on his face as he thrust out one heavily-muscled arm. “I’ve taken up finger painting. What do you think?”

Ratchet cringed at the sight that met his eyes, while Clank merely covered his optics with one hand.

“Oh, don’t tell me, my strategy is so awesome, you’re at a loss for words. Allow me to explain…”

“Qwark, what _is_ that?” the Lombax asked.

“ _What_?” Qwark flipped the painting around so he could look upon the reason for their shared horror, only succeeding in turning it upside down before he could right it. His eyes widened, and he hugged the image to his chest, which depicted a very disturbing rendition of himself and Courtney Gears smooching.

Once it seemed his comrade’s distress had died down at the removal of the offending painting, Qwark forced out a nervous chuckle and a shaky, “Well, _that’s_ certainly not the plan.” Gaining no amusement in response, he began to search through the other wrinkled pieces of paper he had in his hands. “Let’s see, which one was it?”

“Captain Qwark…” Clank stepped forward, “there is no need for a battle plan. We are merely going to speak to the inhabitants of Virditia and see if there is anything they can tell us about the person we seek. That is all.”

Qwark frowned. “But what’s the point of going on an adventure if we’re just going to _talk_ to people? Who’s ever gotten any fame or glory for something as lame as that?” The superhero crossed his arms as he awaited an answer.

“Well,” Clank began, tapping his chin with one finger, “Igliak’s Senior Delegate Sol Smithson once won the Galactic Amity Award for successfully talking an entire fleet of Agorians out of blowing up the Meaty Meals for Men headquarters for discontinuing a particular flavor of beef jerky.”

They both stared at the little robot, clearly not expecting him to come up with an actual answer to the question, especially one so specific, even if, at the same time, his example really only served to prove Qwark’s point.

The superhero threw his head back and heaved a massive sigh. “Fine, we’ll just _talk_ to them. But if anything goes wrong, there’s always my plan. We might need to pick up some laser-guided pigeons along the way, though. Just in case.”

Before Ratchet could form one of the many logical questions resulting from such a statement, the superhero strode forward and wrapped an arm around the Lombax. “In any case, if it’s for the sake of protecting Ratchet,” as if on cue, the subject in question wheezed for breath from within the man’s tight grip, “then I suppose I don’t mind wasting my awe-inspiring skills on such a boring mission. Plus, I made some delicious peanut butter and ham sandwiches for the trip.”

Clank held up a single finger, a question of utmost urgency poised on his metal lips. “Captain Qwark, are you certain that is a valid flavor combination?”

* * *

Once the sandwiches had been packed and Qwark had vowed to purchase some picture frames with which to display his new “art” when ( _if_ ) they stopped to look for some laser-guided pigeons at the next available supermarket, they all crammed themselves into Aphelion and began their voyage to the distant planet of Virditia and a sector of the galaxy even Clank knew very little about.

For once, Ratchet had decided that what they would face in the coming days or even weeks was none of his concern at the moment, not yet anyway, for he was still too tired to worry about things he could do nothing about. They wouldn’t know what kind of reception they would receive on Virditia until they got there, and he would plan accordingly once the facts were known to him. For all he knew, another wrench, so to speak, would be thrown into their plans once more. He’d let Clank do the planning, while he, once he was feeling up to it, would do the reacting. He always thought better on his feet anyway.

Before the trip had begun, the Lombax had received the welcome offer to rest while his robotic companion piloted the ship. It was a request that garnered no argument, as Ratchet had to admit that he had perhaps urged everyone to leave a bit sooner than his body was ready for it. The Parox Sector was some ways away yet.

It was a mere hour or two into their flight when Ratchet’s half-sleeping mind sharpened at the scent of something bizarrely sweet, yet savory at the same time. When one eye cracked open to check on the source of the odor on his nose’s behalf, he learned that Captain Qwark had already popped open the lid of the plastic container holding a fraction of the prepared peanut butter and ham sandwiches. Having been nourished on a diet of water and chicken broth, and the occasional plain crackers, ever since his injury, Ratchet’s stomach churned as if something irritable had taken up residence inside it.

“Are those actually any good?” Ratchet asked, his eyes rolling upward to follow the chosen sandwich up to the superhero’s awaiting mouth.

“Of course, they are. It’s my own special recipe,” Qwark said and took a bite. After a few seconds of chewing, he went still.

“Have you…ever even had them before?”

The large man remained stiff, silently contemplating what action to take next. After a few confused seconds of looking around the cockpit for some form of assistance in his unspoken plight, he shook his head.

The Lombax’s mouth formed a tired grin. “Come on, Qwark, finish it. There are Fongoids starving on Zanifar, I hear.”

A strange, albeit distressed, sound emanated from Qwark as he attempted to again take up chewing his unholy concoction.

Ratchet turned away and slid down further into his seat, folding his hands over his stomach. “You know what I like? A nice, crispy fried chicken thigh. The only thing I hate is when you’re in the middle of eating it, and you run into this big vein, you know. It doesn’t happen that often, but when it does, oh boy,” Ratchet shook his head, “it’s pretty gross.” His head rolled upward once more to watch Qwark out of the corner of his eye. “Has that ever happened to you?”

By now, the superhero had taken to searching the cockpit even more frantically for something that had yet to be identified, but which Ratchet could only guess.

Ratchet rolled his eyes and pushed himself up out of his slouch. It was time to go in for the kill. “Look, Qwark, just suck it up and swallow it already. It can’t taste _that_ bad! It’s just like pulling off a band-aid. You gotta do it quick.” Unable to resist one more chance to goad on the man’s obvious nausea, Ratchet added, “Except you don’t normally swallow a band-aid, you know what I’m saying?” The results of this little prank could be merely comedic or disastrous. Soon he would find out whether or not this was worth the gamble.

If Qwark puked, he was pretty sure he would, too. You’re playing with fire, my friend.

Qwark shuddered as if a contained explosion had just taken place inside him and clamped a hand over his mouth. With a display of willpower that would have been admirable in less compromising situations, the man swallowed his bite of the sandwich, a couple budding tears sliding down his cheeks.

He sucked in a deep breath like someone who had just nearly escaped drowning. “That was awful.”

Ratchet patted his comrade on the shoulder as the man’s massive chest continued to heave with mental anguish. “What matters is you got through it.”

“Did you…did you guys check the expiration date on that ham? Because…I mean…” Qwark paused to further gasp for air, “there was something seriously wrong with it.” Now it was the Captain’s turn to slouch in exhaustion after his ordeal. “We need to stop by the next supermarket and pick up some new snacks for the trip.”

“Um, I don’t think…” Ratchet trailed off when he heard an “ahem” from beside him.

A quick glance to the left told him that Clank was directing narrowed optics at Qwark, his gaze cold enough to make the man go stiff with its intensity. “Captain Qwark, I do not make a habit of leaving expired food in our fridge. Furthermore, we are not stopping anywhere unless Ratchet and I decide it is necessary.”

The robot returned his attention straight ahead, while Qwark attempted to slide further down in his seat, but was barred from making much progress due to the cockpit’s small size. Ratchet considered offering his hand for a hidden fist-bump with his friend, but then he, too, thought better of it.

* * *

If it wasn’t for the complete lack of food and water, Dr. Nefarious thought his base’s main control room could have been a perfectly nice place to live. The floor may have been too hard to comfortably sleep on and the view could have been better, but he had fixed the former by not sleeping at all and the latter with the help of a marker that was just shy of drying out entirely, with which he had scribbled a bird on a window in a branch, but not necessarily in that order. He believed the bird’s name was Albert, which was the only unfortunate thing about it, really, but there were some things one couldn’t control.

At least his new home was safe, and the computer in the center of the room functioned well enough for him to sporadically check the flickering cameras situated throughout the facility. But all they had shown him thus far, the ones that weren’t mere static, were empty rooms and hallways or volcanoes and rivers of lava.

As far as the one who had driven him to lock himself away in the first place, he had never managed to catch any sign of them. The only movement he had spotted beyond this room was a volcanic eruption way off in the distance and a pair of those skittering, crab-like monstrosities that served as the planet’s only indigenous inhabitants. The only thing he couldn’t quite explain was a blurred and flickering shape he had glimpsed several hours ago in camera 17-B, which he had witnessed blink into existence for just the briefest of moments before vanishing.

It was probably just a ghost. Case closed.

With nothing else worth doing at the moment, the scientist had recently taken to revolving slowly in an old swivel chair when he was startled by the soft sound of knocking. Having nearly slid out of his chair at this sudden interruption of his peace, he grasped either armrest in both hands and focused narrowed eyes in the bird’s direction. A moment later, the sound repeated itself, followed by a voice.

“Sir, would you _please_ open up?”

Nefarious spun his seat to face the door. If his attacker thought they might win him over with politeness, he wasn’t falling for it. Sometimes the _worst_ people pretended to have manners. Just look at how the Lombax’s little sidekick spoke, and he had played a major part in thwarting his plans on more than one occasion.

“If you’re still cross with me, I can explain.”

“Of course, I’m still cross with you! You tried to kill me!” Nefarious pushed himself from his chair, the object rolling backwards until it banged into the central console as he marched towards the source of the noise. “Get lost!” he said and kicked the door for good measure.

With the assurance that his point was more than clear, the scientist spun on his heel, about to return to his chair when the speaker continued, “Sir, it would appear that I missed something quite important since my absence. This is Lawrence. Would you ever so kindly unlock the door? It would be most appreciated. Thank you.”

_Lawrence_? Even that twit had never been _that_ polite.

When Nefarious failed to respond, the voice went on, “I have no idea what has gotten into you, sir, but if you have any reason to doubt my identity, might I remind you that you have cameras all throughout the facility. Including one outside this very door.”

Directing a scathing glare over his shoulder, the scientist marched back to the central console and switched to the camera in question. Amidst the flickering, distorted image of the hallway beyond, Nefarious could indeed make out the squat shape of his former butler, who greeted the camera situated above him with a slow wave of his hand.

For a moment, Nefarious found himself unable to pull his eyes away from the screen. When he was finally able to restore movement to his legs, the scientist returned to the door in slow, uncertain steps. “All right…Lawrence. I’ll open the door, just as long as you promise you won’t try anything funny.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, sir. I think you will agree that I’m rarely very funny.”

It was him, all right.

Nefarious pushed a button beside the door, once to disengage the lock, twice to open it. When the sight of his old butler greeted him, now without a blanket of static to obscure him, he nearly lost what little strength remained in him.

“Sir…” Lawrence began, “why do you have marker on your forehead? And where is your other glove?”

“Hmm?” The scientist looked down at his hands, only now realizing that his left glove was absent. “Lawrence…what are you doing here? I thought I fired you.”

“Why, I didn’t think you really meant it, sir,” Lawrence replied with a shrug. “After all, you’ve already fired me several times before. The last time it happened, you sent me a message less than an hour later… _asking_ me to change the batteries in your remote.”

“Oh…” He couldn’t say he remembered any of this, but he wasn’t certain he was really in much of a state not to take his butler’s word for it.

Lawrence stepped into the room. “Anyway, I came to warn you that the Galactic Rangers are coming. We must leave immediately.” He paused, fidgeting with the hands he had folded over his stomach. “From what I could tell when I hacked their communications, it would appear that… _she’s_ with them.”

At these words, Nefarious’ gaze was pulled upwards. “Wh-what?”

The robot shook his head. “Never mind that, sir.” Lawrence took a hurried step forward when Nefarious wavered, one arm outstretched. “We really must leave while we still-”

The rumble of some distant elevator coming to life jolted the scientist to attention. With a despairing groan, Nefarious’ knees gave out and he slunk to the floor, clutching his massive head in both hands. “No, no, no! Not now! I’m not prepared for this! I can’t go back to prison! I can’t!”

“Sir,” his butler dared a single, urgent glance over his shoulder, “I’m afraid it may already be too late. Perhaps…we can make it if we hurry….”

When the scientist continued to mutter repetitions of these same fruitless appeals to himself, Lawrence attempted to grab him by the arm and pull him to his feet. At this contact, Nefarious flung himself upon his butler, clinging to him with trembling arms.

“Get out of here, Lawrence!”

“Sir?” Lawrence fought to keep his balance when he was forced to bear the scientist’s full, if slight, weight. “I’m…I’m here to help you.”

Nefarious grabbed his butler by the shoulders and attempted to shake him, though his own waning strength was only sufficient in making the robot wobble. “Get out of here while you still can, Lawrence! They didn’t come here for you, but they’ll scour every inch of this place for me!”

Lawrence blinked. “P-pardon?”

“You have to leave before they find you! Who _else_ will break me out of prison? Please… _go_!”

The robot nodded. “Very good, sir. I’ll meet up with you as soon as I can.” With that, Lawrence extricated himself from the scientist’s clutching fingers and left the room.

Without his butler’s support, Nefarious’ thin frame was reduced once again to that of a boneless ragdoll as he slid back to the ground, not once taking his eyes off the open doorway. He could lock the door, but how much time would that really buy him? This moment was inevitable. He should’ve known he couldn’t put it off forever.

When he was a young man, he had joined the Galactic Rangers to put his intelligence to good use. Back then, he had wanted to _help_ people. If he could aid the Rangers in stopping invasions, if his work was responsible for saving countless lives, perhaps people wouldn’t see him as a freak anymore. Perhaps they wouldn’t stop and stare and laugh at his deformity when they passed him on the street.

Perhaps he would receive respect and gratitude from others rather than disgust.

He had been wrong. Very wrong. In the end, people still laughed. They still sneered. And there’s only so long a person can take such a thing without breaking.

All the good he had done was cancelled out the very moment he had first stepped out of line. People said that if someone was capable of such atrocities, they never really had any good in them to begin with. Apparently evil acts were much easier for people to accept than the good ones. He had simply hoped that _she_ , at the very least, would have been the one person to believe otherwise.

But how could he blame her when he felt the same?


	19. A Cold Reception

Many hundreds of years ago, when space travel was anything but the ordinary affair it was now, the infinite cosmos was a fascinating subject for astronomers wishing to unravel the mysteries of the universe, along with anyone else who chose to spend their nights gazing curiously up into the starry sky. It was ironic, then, that upon achieving the goals set by society’s ancestors and gaining the ability to ascend to the heavens in much the same manner as birds flit through the trees, but on a far grander scale, most people of the modern era had come to realize that outer space, once a place of boundless imagination, was in fact, exceedingly boring.

Ratchet had once read about something called “a road trip”, where ancient people would travel long distances in wheeled vehicles, confined only to the planet, or more commonly, merely the country of their existence. It was supposed to be a “fun” way to see the sights as a family or group of friends, though to the Lombax, it sounded more like an ordeal, especially when the sights often involved such attractions as “the world’s largest lamp”, “the world’s largest _working_ lamp”, or, and this one was pretty gross, “the world’s largest amalgamation of chewed gum”.

When the “fun” inevitably wore out and the open road lost its appeal, his guess was probably within the first two hours or so, he thought the resulting conversation would go a little something like this.

“I spy with my little eye…”

Ratchet threw his head back, succeeding only in banging it on the seat behind him. “Qwark, just _stop_!”

“…something black!”

Engulfed within one of the superhero’s massive hands was a small plastic tray, in which was contained a cheesy spread that no one in their right mind would have mistaken for actual dairy. Completely unperturbed by his comrade’s lack of enthusiasm for his chosen game, he dipped a small rectangular cracker into the pool of cheese as he awaited an answer.

Earlier that day, Captain Qwark had managed to convince them to make a quick stop at the grocery store in order to pick up some snacks that might prove to be just a bit more edible than his experimental sandwiches. The superhero’s choices could all be found in the aisle where was kept all the pre-packaged foods kids typically took with them to school. The only reason they had agreed to this diversion was because Ratchet, whose stomach had begun to feel quite queasy from the smell of those ham and peanut butter sandwiches, had needed to acquire some clear, fizzy soda that might help to settle the strange noises that had taken up residence inside him.

The Lombax released a loud huff that threatened to make him sound very much like an exasperated teenager after hearing one of her dad’s infamous jokes. “The answer’s outer space!” He gestured outside with both palms facing up to indicate the place to which he was referring. “Just like every _other_ time!”

“Oh, _yeah_? Well, how about…” the man stuck the cracker, now smothered in the fake cheese spread, in his mouth, “I spy with my little eye something…ebony.”

“Seriously?”

Their one-sided game was interrupted by a crackling of static. Clank leaned in towards the ship’s controls to inspect the source of the signal. “It would appear that President Phironix is calling us.” Without any need to doubt the Lombax’s readiness, he pressed a button on the dashboard, and a familiar voice buzzed into life.

“Ratchet, come in. Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, we hear you, uh…P-President Phironix,” Ratchet said and scratched at an itch that had just developed on his left ear. “What’s…up?”

“I have some good news concerning Dr. Nefarious,” the Cazar said. “The Rangers have just reported in, and their captain informed me that he’s been captured. She says that he came without a struggle. He’s being transported to Zordoom as we speak.” There was a pause, followed by, “And it’s Sasha, remember?”

“Yeah, I…I remember. So…he didn’t try and…kill everyone in sight? That doesn’t sound like him at all.” Ratchet turned a curious gaze in Clank’s direction, but the robot merely shrugged. “But hey, either way, that _is_ good news. We’re still on our way to Virditia. Shouldn’t be much longer. We’ll let you know if we find anything.”

“Sure thing, Ratchet. Good luck out there.” With that, the radio clicked off.

* * *

Though space travel was typically an uninteresting affair, any interruptions that might divide those long stretches of emptiness were not always welcome. Several more hours crawled by, helped along by a semi-conscious doze Ratchet had fallen into a short while after Sasha’s call. He was snapped out of it when Clank nudged his arm.

There was no need to exchange a single word, for all Clank had to do was point out a lonely dot on the ship’s radar some several hundred meters behind them. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Ratchet already knew what it signified before his friend even had a chance to switch to Aphelion’s rear cameras and zoom in on a very familiar vessel trailing after them, a lone Galactic Ranger ship.

Neither said a word to Qwark, who was too busy staring at the ceiling and twiddling the thumbs he had laced together on his stomach to notice the sudden change in his comrades’ moods. Rather, due to some unspoken agreement, the Lombax and robot pair maintained a tense vigil over the screen, even as the engine’s barely detectable hum threatened to lure Ratchet back to sleep. The following hours ticked by at half the pace as before, during which their visitor changed neither speed nor position, their presence casual if not for the impossibility of being followed through the staggering vastness of space by mere accident.

An eternity later, the vessel dipped without warning and was lost from sight.

* * *

Though the Galactic Ranger ship had slipped from view hours ago, the memory of its presence remained etched in Ratchet’s mind about as intensely as the spots one couldn’t quite shake from their vision when they accidentally stared at the sun too long. Though his weakened body yearned for rest, he couldn’t bring himself to allow such an indulgence. He had promised Clank he would be careful. He hadn’t promised to be caught off-guard.

They stopped to refuel on a small, snowy moon orbiting the planet of Alepa. Captain Qwark had hurried off to find a bathroom as soon as they had landed, while Ratchet shuffled after him to a set of concrete benches lining the front of the mini-mart as the attendant connected the fueling hose to Aphelion’s rear tank. Clank followed a short distance behind, though it was easy to tell he was preoccupied when the Lombax looked back to find that his friend had stopped a good ten feet back to stare at nothing in particular. At least, it seemed highly unlikely the robot truly held any interest in the ad pasted on the mini-mart windows offering select candy bars at half price.

Ratchet rested his chin in his hands with both elbows propped on his lap and tried not to shiver in the brisk air. It would seem the surrounding area had not been cleared of snow recently, for already the wide path they had travelled to get here had very nearly taken on the appearance of the undisturbed snowfall that characterized everywhere else around them. Based on the lack of footsteps visible in the snow, it was quite possible that nothing else resided in the vicinity but the fueling depot.

He looked over when his friend pulled himself up to sit beside him on the bench. “How much farther, Clank?”

“Another day or two.”

This far away from civilization, only one other ship had been present at the fueling depot upon their arrival, a lonely looking cargo vessel transporting iron ore. He didn’t used to mind space travel, but now…he thought if it was a full-time job, he’d go insane. The emptiness…it ate at him in a way that it never had before.

Sometimes, he just wished he could go home.

He watched the cargo ship leave a few minutes later, its bulky form speeding upwards until it was lost beyond the thick grey clouds hanging low above them. That made them the last ship here. Ratchet stood when he noticed the attendant removing the fueling hose, wrapping its flexible form about their shoulder several times for easier transfer. They didn’t get very far after that.

There was not enough warning to do anything. Not enough time to shout, to tell them to run or take cover, to even comprehend what was happening until it was too late.

The scream of an oncoming missile was followed by a massive explosion that shook the ground and released a sweltering shockwave in all directions that temporarily eclipsed the wintery chill present seconds earlier. By the time Ratchet dared uncover his face, the overhead canopy that protected ships from the elements was no more, replaced instead by a flattened blanket of flaming debris that had engulfed Aphelion and anything else beneath it.

The attendant was nowhere to be seen.

Captain Qwark burst through the doors of the mini-mart before they had even been given the chance to fully slide open. Behind him, a panicked cashier pressed her face to the glass to peer outside.

“Wh-what was that…?” the superhero asked, his words, and his momentum, trailing off when his attention latched onto what remained of the fueling depot.

Rather than answer, the Lombax was already searching the skies above, the end of his tail flicking back and forth in jerky motions. “There!” He pointed skyward to indicate a sleek, green ship making a wide loop high above them. His stomach dropped out from under him when a white glow began to form around a twin pair of plasma cannons.

Allowing all rational thought to give way to instinct, the Lombax and his allies dove inside the mini-mart just before the Galactic Ranger vessel unleashed a volley of cannon fire that shattered the windows and created a rift right up through the ceiling as if the building had been partially cleaved in two.

“We are vulnerable on the ground!” Clank called over the din, the little robot now thoroughly covered in a fine layer of dust. Somewhere in the next aisle, Qwark’s ragged coughing could be heard. “We must return to the ship!”

“Yeah, if there’s a ship to go back to!” Ratchet brandished his Predator Launcher and rose from his crouch. “Don’t worry! This guy won’t be causing us trouble for much longer!”

With his boots crunching on the broken shards of glass that littered the floor an inch thick, the Lombax fired several homing missiles through the gaping hole in the ceiling above just as soon as he was able to lock on to the Ranger ship as it passed overhead.

“No, Ratchet,” the crackle of Clank’s footsteps was followed by a frantic tug on his friend’s pant leg, “we must leave! Now!”

Ratchet spared only a quick glance downward before readying another volley of missiles. “I’m not going to run away, Clank! We need to take this guy out once and for all!”

“This is not the time to act rashly! By staying here, we are not only putting ourselves in danger, but others, as well!”

At these words, Ratchet allowed his attention to drift to the far end of the room. In the place where the cashier had just been, there was nothing but a jagged wall of shattered glass. The lack of a body meant she had gotten away, but he couldn’t say her luck would last if the entire building was destroyed.

Ratchet’s cheeks grew hot. Until two seconds ago, the only other people who had existed in his mind had been his friends and the pilot of that ship.

Before he could form any sort of response to the robot’s logic, Ratchet’s breath was squeezed out of him when the pair was scooped up in Qwark’s heavily-muscled and spandex-clad arms. “Sorry, Ratchet, but I’m with Clank on this one!”

With an unnecessary war cry, the superhero dashed back out into the open, his comrades in tow. Ratchet bounced around from within the man’s constricting grip, one arm flopping uselessly while the other was pinned at his side. All the while, Clank had somehow managed to perch himself on Qwark’s other shoulder, looking quite at home. Apparently his diminutive friend had grown quite accustomed to this sort of thing after many years spent harnessed to Ratchet’s back.

When they reached Aphelion, it was clear her hull was battered even from what little Ratchet could make out beneath the debris of the fallen canopy. With the predatory hum of the circling Ranger ship serving as an eerie backdrop, Qwark began to heave away cumbersome chunks of concrete and twisted rebar while Ratchet attempted to douse the fires with his Frost Cannon, the melting ice doing a respectable job of reducing the intensity of the flames.

While his comrades worked to clear Aphelion for takeoff, Clank watched the sky, a hand poised above his optics to better block out the sun. “He’s coming back!”

Ratchet turned to match his friend’s gaze just as a wave of homing missiles was launched from the oncoming vessel’s cannons. Without thinking, the Lombax dashed forward and climbed atop the higher vantage point offered by what was left of a nearby support pillar, switching weapons as he did so.

“Ratchet, be careful!” was all his friend could get out before Ratchet unleashed a flurry of Buzz Blades.

The whirling steel discs spun through the air in a cloud, the homing missiles swerving as they attempted to pick out which of the several dozen targets they should strike. The first missile that blew up took out two more in the vicinity, the rest following suit in the long seconds that followed. The last missile that remained intact managed to evade the disarray, only for its back fin to be nicked by a passing blade, sending it off course and detonating upon impact with the ground twenty yards away.

Ratchet looked back and shrugged. “I _am_ being careful.”

“Almost…there!” The superhero strained against a particularly heavy piece of debris. With one final heave, Qwark tossed the object aside and wiped his brow with one forearm.

“He is coming back around! We must leave while we can!” At Clank’s urging, the three piled inside Aphelion, her form blackened and dented, but intact. The little robot started the ignition, and just like that, they were off, pebbles plinking along the windshield before falling free as they began their ascent back into the open reaches of space. Behind them, a dot on the radar indicated that their enemy was quickly catching up.

“Move over, Clank!”

Ratchet pulled the robot from the pilot’s seat and switched places. Yanking back on the yoke, Aphelion jerked upwards, sending Clank tumbling into the superhero’s lap as Qwark held out his arms in an attempt to keep himself steady. The darkening atmosphere spun around them, the moon’s snowy surface whirling past in a sickening blur as Aphelion made a tight loop. It all lasted for under five seconds, and once they had righted themselves, it was the enemy’s rear engines that met them next.

Teeth gritted, Ratchet opened fire as the Ranger vessel attempted to evade, but the Lombax remained right on its tail throughout every twist and turn, finishing with a wave of missiles that made no delay in striking their target, causing a substantial portion of their enemy’s right wing to break off in a shower of sparks and blackened fragments of splintered metal.

“Ha! We’ve almost got him!” Ratchet fired another volley of missiles, but only one met its mark when the enemy ship attempted to roll out of the way, succeeding instead in sending themselves into an erratic spiral that took them several seconds from which to escape. With a burst of speed, the damaged vessel made a clumsy turn to the left to angle back towards the moon’s surface.

Without missing a beat, Aphelion plummeted downwards after their adversary. It wasn’t long before the ground was rushing upwards to meet them, causing Qwark to wail in terror until the other ship pulled up at the last second, Ratchet following suit a brief second later.

They raced along a mere foot or two above the ground, narrowly dodging any obstacle that sprung up in their path, from trees to a small mountain that came upon them with little warning thanks to the great speeds at which they were travelling. Sharp turns sent Clank tumbling back and forth as Qwark held on for dear life, but not once did Ratchet flinch, his elbows stiff and his grip on the yoke enough to make his knuckles crack.

When ascending the mountain and dipping into the valley that followed was not enough to shake the Lombax, their adversary gave up this dangerous obstacle course in favor of speeding straight for Alepa, its form having just come into view over the next peak.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Ratchet said through clenched teeth just as soon as their enemy’s intentions had become clear and increased pressure on the throttle.

The two ships raced towards the mountainous landscape of the planet below, the reason behind the vessel’s erratic maneuvering unclear as to whether or not it was meant to evade the Lombax’s continuous fire or simply because a straighter course was no longer possible with only one wing intact. Either way, this was not enough to prevent Ratchet from taking out one of their rear engines with Aphelion’s plasma cannons shortly after entering Alepa’s atmosphere.

Thick black smoke flooded forth from the damaged engine, enough to engulf Aphelion and temporarily obstruct Ratchet’s vision. He veered to the left to escape the choking shroud, launching another round of missiles as he did so. Just as the missiles neared their intended target, the damaged vessel shuddered as the remaining engine sputtered and coughed a single cloud of smoke before its glow faded entirely. What followed was a graceless plummet downwards as the missiles zipped by, striking a tall group of pine trees instead and lighting what remained of them ablaze in the resulting explosion.

In this brief moment of distraction, Ratchet lost sight of the other ship, this lapse all the more difficult to right when the conspicuous banner of smoke had died with its power source. Even if they were an expert pilot, which, based on the evidence, seemed doubtful, there was no way they had managed to glide, without a single engine, through the trees below without crashing into _something_.

Ratchet cursed under his breath without regards for who might be listening, perking up when he caught the slightest wavering in the tip of one of the pines a short distance ahead of them. On second thought, maybe they _had_.

With the superhero pleading under his breath that his life might be spared, while Clank looked on in a dizzy silence, the Lombax guided Aphelion down through the trees in a display of precision their adversary had lacked. Once he had safely landed the ship in a small clearing not far from where he believed the impact had taken place, his hand fell to the blaster at his belt.

He drew in a deep breath through his nose. Now _this_ was not the time to act rashly.

“I know I’m in no shape to fight, but finding this guy is the whole reason we’re in this corner of the galaxy to begin with, right?” Ratchet addressed the steering yoke in front of him. “Letting him get away now would be crazy. That’s why…I’m going to need your help. _Both_ of yours.” His attention darted towards his comrades. “We can do this if we work together.”

Captain Qwark, his chest still heaving from their recent ordeal, turned an unsteady gaze in Ratchet’s direction. A smile formed on his lips, and he gave the Lombax a curious, one-fingered salute. “Sure thing, Ratchet. You can count on us.”

A heavy silence accompanied the trio as they exited the ship, the brisk air not quite cold enough to equal that of Alepa’s second moon, but still low enough to cause Ratchet to shiver before he was able to catch himself. Clank had already taken his usual place on Ratchet’s back before their trek had begun, their feet muted upon the thick blanket of pine needles that covered the otherwise rocky ground. From above, Alepa displayed a dramatic landscape in the sheer difference between its peaks and valleys that went on for as far as the eyes could see. But from the ground, at the foot of the massive pines of the forest in which they had landed, it was impossible to get much of a grasp of their surroundings when they couldn’t see much farther than the next grouping of trees.

Ratchet could feel his muscles tensing just as his finger tightened on the trigger of his Combustor. A quick glance sideways told him that Qwark was surely feeling the same based on the way he held his own blaster at eye level and gripped in both hands, not unlike how he so often did in his movies.

He hadn’t seen them. Just the previews. But that had been enough to tell him they were best avoided.

After a short walk, they came upon the tree Ratchet sought, but aside from a gash high up in the trunk and a few bits of twisted metal littering the forest floor, there was no sign of their enemy’s ship. It seemed the collision he had expected had merely been the clipping of a wing or some other minor accident.

It felt strange, he had to admit, hoping that someone had suffered a crash. But when that someone had come very close to killing you, and had even threatened the lives of your friends...maybe there were exceptions as far as morals went.

When he had first set out from Veldin, he hadn't cared about becoming a hero. But when it had become clear just how much the universe had needed Clank and him to stop Drek, he had, for the time being, changed his mind. Helping others came first, even when there were plenty of times he wished he could hand the job over to someone else and live his own life. He had believed that being a hero meant more than just stopping evil. It meant being a better person.

But that hadn't made a difference in the end, had it? Any villain they didn't outright kill always had a habit of coming back. And those who didn’t were only replaced by tyrants twice as bad. Being good...it didn't work like people thought it did. It wasn't as easy as, just do the right thing, and the rest will follow.

Their job would have been easier if their enemy’s ship had crashed. Ratchet hadn't any intention of bringing him to justice. He wasn't bringing him back alive.

“Based on the trajectory,” Clank had begun when Ratchet turned to give his robot companion a full view of the situation, “assuming he went in a straight line, our enemy should be approximately 400 meters southeast of our position.”

With one hand stroking his massive chin, Qwark took to studying the sun overhead. “Not to worry. I was taught how to navigate the woods in Survival Camp.” His voice dropped, and he continued under his breath, “We just have to hunker down until sunset, and then...”

“You grew up in Metropolis.” The Lombax kicked a twisted piece of scrap metal and proceeded to study the patch of dirt exposed beneath it as if that might reveal a clue. “Since when were you ever at risk of getting lost in the woods?”

Qwark planted indignant fists on his waist. “That's beside the point. This was all about survival. Becoming a man. If we were lost in hostile territory, we had to be prepared to gut a deer with our bare hands and put a wolf in a headlock.”

“And _how_ many wolves have you seen in the city lately?”

“Once we decide to return to the task at hand,” came Clank's voice from behind him, “southeast is that way.”

Twisting as best he could to peer over his shoulder, Ratchet was just able to make out where his friend was pointing. “Thanks, pal.” Heading off in the indicated direction, he waved for the superhero to follow. “Come on, Qwark. You can tickle some wolves later.”

The Captain huffed. “For your information, I had to wrestle a pigeon just last month that was trying to steal my fries!”

Ratchet sniggered. “Who won?”

With their search resumed, the group fell silent once more. Though birds chirped and whistled in the branches overhead, their normally tranquil serenade echoed off the thick tree trunks in an eerie manner. The Lombax's fur prickled. The worst was far from over. They may have survived the earlier assault with little more than shaken nerves and a couple fresh dents on Aphelion's surface, but that first encounter, the one that had ended in his defeat, had been on foot.

As the group continued to trek ever deeper into the forest, the fluttering in Ratchet’s heart had returned with an unsettling strength. Though he had been vigilant about scanning their surroundings ever since they had first arrived, and his large ears should have been well-equipped to pick up any suspicious noises that might tip them off as to their enemy’s location, he caught not one sign of their attacker or his ship. Surely he couldn't have gone far. Even if his ship was still capable of flight, they would have seen it. Or heard it. Or, at the very least, smelled the pungent odor of smoke over the earthy scent of soil and pine needles.

Instead, Clank’s shout was the only warning he received.

"Ratchet, behind you!"

The Lombax dove sideways as an electric blast sped through the air where his head had just been. The sound of blaster fire followed as Ratchet forced himself back upon unsteady feet. He shouldn't have been winded already.

A hurried survey of his surroundings told him that Captain Qwark was firing his blaster at the chilling form of a robed and faceless figure emerging through the trees from the additional height offered by a steep hill they had just passed moments before. Though the superhero’s aim should have been true, each shot was simply absorbed by a shimmering blue shield their enemy hardly even acknowledged. Ratchet's already erratic heartbeat doubled in speed, and darkness began to close in around his vision. It was like a nightmare. He would be paralyzed and left vulnerable to attack from that wicked scythe that had yet to make itself known. And he would be the first to have his throat cut, and then his friends would fall victim next.

But that had been a week ago. He could have sworn it was. So how was this happening _again_? He could just make out the greenery of the courtyard through the haze, though he could no longer hear the sound of the chirping birds.

No. No, it had been a fountain. Not birds. And…the fountain had been silent then. How did one hear the lack of a sound anyway?

“Ratchet! Hey, little guy, snap out of it!”

Ratchet squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a quick shake. When he opened his eyes again, he found Captain Qwark had positioned himself between their assailant and him. He hadn’t even realized until now that he was kneeling on the ground.

“What is the matter, Ratchet? Are you hurt?” Clank’s voice sounded distant, even as the staccato of blaster fire grew steadily clearer.

“N-no, I’m fine!”

This was no time to panic. Whether or not it was warranted, it would not help. And besides, this encounter was different. He had his friends. And he was armed to the teeth.

Ratchet deployed a Mr. Zurkon for backup and sidestepped out from the cover offered by the superhero’s great bulk, Combustor at the ready. Before the hovering attack-droid could so much as utter a syllable of its token trash talk, however, it was rendered immobile at the precise moment a concentrated wave of nearly invisible energy passed over it, its existence only noticeable due to a rippling in the air like the heat waves present on a hot summer’s day. The Lombax couldn’t help but watch as the robot fell motionless to the ground, despite the absence of a single sign of damage.

Realization made his eyes widen. An EMP gun. Of course. He had never seen a handheld weapon with such capabilities before. Though it would prove quite ineffective against organics, robots didn't stand a chance.

Ratchet stumbled backwards when he noticed their faceless attacker marching straight for him, EMP gun aimed and ready to fire once more, their right side effectively shielded from attack against Qwark's own blaster fire by that perplexing blue barrier. It was clear who the target was this time. This villain could mess with him all he wanted, but when Clank was involved...

Baring his teeth, the Lombax switched to his Buzz Blades and fired off a chaotic array of razor-sharp discs that zipped in all directions like an angry swarm of wasps. With Qwark’s help, not to mention Ratchet’s additional firepower, there was a good chance the battle was going to play out much differently this time around. But all it took was one wrong move, one lapse in thinking, and Clank could be caught up in the EMP’s debilitating wave. And if that happened, there was nothing that could fix him. Perhaps his body could be restored, but his mind, his memories, who he was...there was no getting that back.

The ricocheting blades were enough to send their foe sidestepping, one stray disc slicing their unprotected arm when it bounced off a nearby rock. Their arm flickered at the point of impact, though it was impossible to discern what the damage really was beneath the cover of the hologuise. Throughout their adversary’s distraction, an idea took root in Ratchet's mind. There was only one solution that would secure his friend’s safety. Simply put, Clank didn’t need to be here.

“Sorry, pal!” Reaching back, he grabbed the robot by the arm and yanked him free of his harness before tossing him in Qwark's direction. With no more forewarning than a hurried yell to alert the superhero of his intentions, Qwark managed to react just in time to catch Clank safely in his arms.

“Get Clank out of here!”

“Huh?” For once, the superhero’s dumbfounded expression was entirely understandable.

From within Qwark’s embrace, Clank attempted to clamber free, but was unable to accomplish much more than an awkward flail. “Ratchet, what are you thinking? You cannot face him alone!”

“Get Clank back to the ship! I’ll…” Ratchet paused just long enough to unleash several more Buzz Blades into the fray, “I'll be right behind you...once I take care of _him_!”

Torn between two opposing orders, Qwark’s decision was revealed when he shrugged and charged back in the direction by which they had come. Ratchet was just able to catch Clank's wide optics peering over the superhero's shoulder, one arm outstretched in a fruitless effort to reach the Lombax before they were lost from sight.

He could explain later. He had gotten them into this by not finishing this guy off sooner. He wouldn’t allow Clank to be put in danger because of his own failure.

Ratchet turned back to his opponent to find he had only just finished beating off the pack of swirling metal blades that had so recently been swarming around him. In all honesty, losing his focus for that long could have been a deadly mistake. It should have been. He wasn't thinking straight. He hadn't been since that first fight back in Metropolis. He better take advantage of this rare luck while it lasted.

The pair, furry Lombax and faceless mystery figure, proceeded to circle each other, neither willing to lessen the distance between them. They exchanged shots, one charge from their cannon just barely missing Ratchet's cheek, the electricity sending a tingling through his jaw at the close proximity by which it had passed. Running low on Buzz Blades, he switched to the Combustor and just managed to nick their shoulder, the barrier failing to appear this time. It was his second hit so far.

Maybe it was just him, but there was something off about his adversary this time. Aside from the obvious attempts on Clank, they seemed reluctant, the aggression from the first fight thankfully absent. In fact, they almost seemed...clumsy. Almost as much so as he was.

It could have been laughable, had the potential outcome not been one so dire, when both sides of the struggle repeatedly exchanged ineffectual blows, each not gaining an advantage over the other. How Ratchet, in so weakened a state, had managed to bridge the gap between their respective prowess in battle was a paradox, but it only meant that one wrong move could seal the fate of the one who made it.

It seemed his opponent had realized this very same fact, for after the umpteenth shot that failed to meet its mark, he shimmered out of existence. Without thinking, Ratchet lifted his wrench before him just in time to block an unseen blow, the brief scraping of metal prior telling him that the deadly sickle had been brandished.

He blocked the next strike just as easily, though his muscles began to strain as his enemy continued to push the blade against him. Through impending exhaustion, Ratchet bared his teeth in a grin. “You forgot one thing! Lombaxes have superior senses!” He grunted when they increased the pressure. “Plus, I can see your footsteps in the pine needles!”

He felt a pause despite not being able to see it, the force pushing against his wrench remaining steady for a few beats longer before he was shoved backwards. Anticipating a surprise attack, he fired off a few more shots from his Combustor before losing his balance entirely and falling onto his back. He pushed himself up as quickly as his taxed muscles would permit, not about to allow a repeat of their first encounter, but rather than needing to react to another unseen strike, his keen feline senses merely picked up the muffled thump of retreating footsteps.

Once it had registered in Ratchet’s mind exactly what was happening, he attempted to scramble after them. “Hey! Hey, get back here!” At this distance, however, spotting the disturbance in the pine needles was no longer an option, and the sound of their footfalls was quickly receding to the point that even his large ears could no longer detect it. Within moments, he had lost them.

Ratchet’s short-lived sprint came to a halt, and he doubled over, hands to his knees, to catch his breath. This should have been nothing, but once more, his recent injury had returned to haunt him, his breathing ragged and his racing heart holding no rhythm.

With the commotion at an end, the sound of birds started to return. Ratchet straightened and stared off through the trees ahead of him. Clank had said their enemy’s ship should have landed southeast of their position. He wasn’t sure how far off course he had travelled by now, but perhaps he could still find them.

He could also get hopelessly lost. And he didn’t exactly trust Qwark’s “survival instincts”.

He remained in place as a weak breeze ruffled his fur and the sunlight filtering through the pine needles above generated a spattering of warmth on his face and ears. He was better than this. Clank and he had stopped countless villains. He didn’t just let them get away. And then there was his own inability to prevent Nefarious’ escape from Metropolis. On second thought, that time had been Ophelia’s fault. As far as today was concerned, this one could be attributed solely to his own failure.

He stiffened at a hoarse drone from above, turning his attention skyward just in time to catch the Galactic Ranger vessel he sought soaring over the trees some distance ahead of him, the suffocating smell of the smoke emanating from its damaged engine greeting his nostrils as the ship streaked upwards, its course set for the open reaches of outer space.

Ratchet kicked a rock and watched the weak bounces it made over the ground before rolling to a stop ten feet away. His eyes widened when he noticed something that looked far from organic just beyond where the rock had found rest and headed over for a closer look.

He picked up the fallen EMP gun and turned it over in his hands. It must have gotten dropped during their retreat. With a growl, he readied himself to toss the object as hard as he could, only to think better of it and add the weapon to the collection at his belt. He would never let such a thing fall into the wrong hands again.

When he turned around, he caught the bulky green form of Captain Qwark some yards away. A smile appeared on the man’s face, and he lifted one hand for a wave. “Hey, uh…you show that hooligan what-”

“He got away.” Ratchet kicked the dirt. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Qwark scratched the back of his head. “Oh, right. Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. All-”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” The Lombax released a breath and had to force his fists to unclench. “I’m sorry. Let’s just…return to the ship.”

Neither spoke, Ratchet remaining with his head down and his hands in his pants pockets the entire walk back. The patter of Clank's footsteps met them as soon as Aphelion's form came into view through the pine trees.

“Ratchet, what did I tell you about fighting him alone? You could have gotten yourself killed!”

Ratchet knelt down to better make eye contact with the tiny robot standing before him. “Is that how you greet an old friend?” He forced himself to smile, and a second later, he was answered in kind.

“I am glad you are safe.” Clank tilted his head. “But...what happened?”

Ratchet opened his mouth, a lengthy explanation poised on his tongue, and sighed. “He got away. I'm sorry.”

Clank reached forward, standing on tiptoes to pat his friend on the shoulder. “That is all right. What matters is that we are all alive and well.”

“But, what do we do now? How can we possibly track him again?”

“All we can do for the time being is continue on as planned. Our enemy clearly does not want us to go to Virditia, so either we will discover a vital clue as to his whereabouts there or...” he paused, “or he will try to stop us again. We must make sure we are ready for this possibility. And next time,” the robot's gaze locked onto Ratchet's own, “we must fight together.”

“But he had...I was worried that...”

“We have always faced danger together. I see no reason that should change now.”

“I guess.” Ratchet stood as Clank turned and headed back to Aphelion, Captain Qwark already situated inside the cockpit with his hands tucked behind his head. They always said “third time’s a charm”. But when that next encounter came around, who would come out on top?


	20. You’re in Big Trouble, Young Lady

It took nearly two days of additional space travel to reach the Parox Sector. It took a fraction of that time to realize that this would be a corner of the galaxy unlike any they had ever visited before.

The first sign that something was sorely amiss was when a planet came into view through the haze surrounding them, an unsettling accumulation of dust in varying degrees of thickness, for which they had yet to come up with any proper explanation. The planet was dull in color, which was not necessarily anything that warranted a second look, even if the cold, pale grey that made up the majority of its surface exuded death, its pallor that of a body whose life had long since drifted away.

But that was not the first thing Ratchet noticed.

What caught his attention and chilled his blood to ice water within his veins was the crack that split the planet down the middle, branching off into a fork at the top that made something normally so solid and massive appear as fragile as an egg. No one uttered a word as they passed it by, as if the trio felt a mutual need to pay their respects, before proceeding ever further into a cloud whose identity the Lombax had a growing suspicion he wouldn’t like.

It continued on like this for hours, an endless sea of dust that Ratchet knew was no nebula, the scene eventually giving way to larger particles until they found floating debris ranging from the size of their ship to moon-sized and larger. Some of the massive rocks hung motionless, while others turned in a slow and endless rotation.

He could hardly believe it when the shape of another planet loomed into view. Its otherwise spherical surface was marred by one glaring deformity, a crater of astounding proportions that had flattened nearly half of the planet’s northern hemisphere.

Within the hour, they had landed on Virditia, in a spot Aphelion had dubbed as the most inhabited. Upon stepping out into a cold and dusty plain, with naught but a few dry twigs and shriveled weeds to provide vegetation, Ratchet had to wonder just what exactly the word “inhabited” really meant in a place like this.

Ratchet pulled himself from the cockpit, the stench of ash and stagnant air meeting his nostrils. “I can’t say this place looks too promising,” he paused to survey the faded orange sky hanging above them. It was almost as if the very atmosphere itself had been burned away. “But…I guess we might as well have a look around. Don’t let your guard down. We have no idea what might be out there.”

“Are you _sure_ this is the right place?” Though Qwark had left the safety of the ship behind, his back remained pressed up against it. “I-I mean, this place looks like a wasteland. You sure whoever lives here will be open to talking?”

“What’s the problem? I thought the idea of talking bored you. If you still want glory, then you may be in luck.” Ratchet studied the horizon as Clank joined him at his side.

“Well,” Qwark released a nervous laugh, shifting his weight from one foot to another, “glory’s a bit…overrated, don’t you think? So is, I don’t know, praise and adoration. I mean, being the superhero that I am, I’ve already had plenty of that nonsense, and maybe…maybe the right thing to do in a situation like this would be to… _share_ some of that glory with you guys.”

When the Lombax glanced back over his shoulder, Qwark had already climbed halfway back into the cockpit. Ratchet arched an eyebrow. “Nice try. If you were expecting gunfire, that’s still very possible.” He pulled out his blaster and grinned. “Now come on. Standing around won’t get us anywhere.”

Refusing to budge until the superhero had exited the ship for the second time since their arrival, Ratchet sent Qwark a stern glare before leading the way off across the barren and dusty plain. Their feet crunched on the parched soil as the wind whispered over the rocks, a breathy sort of sound that sent Ratchet’s fur standing on end. Not fifteen minutes later, they reached a sudden incline, only to stop in their tracks at the sight of what lay in the valley below them.

From the air, Ratchet had believed the area to be comprised of nothing more than rock and gravel, but from the ground, the identity of the uneven terrain was more than clear. What met their eyes was thousands, perhaps millions, of tired and taxed machines, so twisted and rusted, they were beyond any hope of reclamation. It was a spectacle that defied belief, for the robots’ twisted remains did not show signs of simple age and wear, but of blaster fire, coupled with the splintered limbs of those whom had fallen victim to explosives. It was not a garbage dump for discarded metal, but a graveyard of murdered machines.

It was unlikely such a thing would have affected him years ago. Before he had met Clank, to be more precise. Back then, it was harder to see things from another’s perspective, not when he was a lonely, orphaned Lombax living on some backwater planet, with no memory of his family and no hope of ever seeing them again. No one could understand what that was like, he had believed, to wonder where your family was, to wonder if they were dead or if they had merely abandoned you, had left you behind without a second look. No one could understand what he was going through, no one had ever _tried_ , so why should he bother trying to understand _them_?

He had grown a lot since then. And he knew that, to Clank, such a scene was very much like stumbling upon a field of bodies, the snapped wires and shattered frames akin to severed arteries and broken bones.

It made him sick. He didn’t have any idea on which side of the struggle the robots were, but in that moment, it made no difference.

With a deep inhalation of breath to steady himself, motion returned to Ratchet’s legs, followed by those of his comrades, taking them down the slope as the wind from earlier heightened its pitch into whistling and pained shrieks. They stepped with care around jagged bits of metal and the mangled remains of too many robots to count, the air smelling of stagnant dust despite the breeze. The wind, Ratchet suspected, was doing no more than stirring up the decay rather than clearing it out.

“Ratchet, you sure we’re going to find anyone here?” Qwark said as he followed a short distance behind, his back hunched as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible. It was working, if a boulder with legs could be considered small.

“We didn’t come all this way just to give up, Qwark,” was the Lombax’s response, though he couldn’t find it in him to inject much strength into his words. It was hard to believe anything still lived here, let alone actual sentient life.

A scraping of metal was the only forewarning that the debris, which littered nearly every inch of the ground, was about to give way beneath them. With a gasp, Ratchet’s stomach dropped out from under him at the sudden descent as they were sent tumbling through dust and pebbles before finally coming to a halt in what was revealed to be a narrow canyon. At least, that’s what he would have assumed, if it wasn’t just as likely the trench they had found themselves in was a deep fissure brought about by the same cataclysmic event responsible for the massive crater on the planet’s surface.

For several long moments, the world spun. Ratchet coughed in the cloud of dust they had created, as the sliver of sky above came slowly into focus, along with the watery sun that watched them through the very haze they had travelled through to get here. Wires hung over the edge of the fissure above, like an inorganic version of tree roots dangling into a ravine. His gaze was tugged downward when his head fell forward, heavy in his confusion, to note that the canyon meandered off ahead of them as far as he could see. He supposed the only thing they could do now was keep moving.

The Lombax pushed himself to his feet, a hand held out to the rough canyon wall beside him for support. “You all right, Clank?”

He received no reply.

Ratchet looked over to find the little robot sitting a short distance away, his green optics wide and unblinking as he stared at a crooked, tattered sign stuck into the ground. It was, in fact, one of many that surrounded them on all sides, which the Lombax had failed to notice until now. They could have so easily been missed amongst the rubble, for they were rusted and crafted from bent pieces of metal that had been hammered flat. Though the faded writing was in a language Ratchet had never seen before, the intent was clear.

Decorating the signs in red paint were unsettling images that made it more than clear that robots were not welcome. The pictures were crude, but they depicted mangled machines or spiteful representations of robots terrorizing the weak, when they didn’t simply depict robots being ripped apart. Ratchet would have torn his friend’s gaze away from it all, by force, if necessary, if it wasn’t already too late.

He opened his mouth, but there was nothing he could say.

“Man, my head is _killing_ me…” came a lazy drawl from behind as Qwark attempted to kick himself free of a loop of wire that had gotten wrapped around one foot. “Can’t we just-”

Ratchet silenced him with a shush and one hand raised at his side. His eyes had fixated on a pebble that had rolled across the ground a short distance ahead of them, the only warning before a grizzled old…something sprang forth from a crevasse in the canyon wall. Ratchet’s blaster was already drawn and directed at the newcomer just as a battered cannon was aimed at his friend’s head. Clank didn’t react.

“How dare y’ come ‘ere with that…soulless _thing_!” The voice was ragged and cracked, the clothing and body so covered in grime and assorted junk, it was impossible to make out the features of their aggressor aside from a scraggly beard that identified them as male. How the man had moved so silently, even with all the little bits of scrap tied about his person, was anyone’s guess.

Ratchet’s ears drew back, his teeth bared in a snarl. “Lower your weapon or you’re dead! I swear!” His heart was hammering so hard, he almost wondered if it was as audible to those around him as it was to himself.

The man turned his head, the metal bits entangled in his matted hair clinking. He considered the Lombax with a single eye, the other hidden beneath his hair, though from lack of care or because it made no difference to his vision was uncertain. Ratchet suspected the latter.

“Back down or I’ll shoot! I’m not joking!” Ratchet’s finger tightened on the trigger.

“You’re jus’ as bad…jus’ as bad as they are! Do it, then! Murder kills th’ soul!” The man practically spat the words, spittle flying from his lips. He was only given the chance to readjust his aim when a growl ripped from the Lombax’s throat.

Pulling out his wrench, Ratchet lunged forward. “I gave you fair warning! Now face someone your own size!” He was jerked backwards by the collar of his shirt as the man took off running in a forward leaning sprint, like a stumble from which he had just barely managed to catch himself.

“Woah, Ratchet! Hey, come on! What’s gotten into you?”

“He’s getting away!” Replacing his wrench with his blaster once more, the Lombax got no further than aiming at empty air, save for the settling cloud of dust their would-be attacker had kicked up in his retreat. “I’m _sick_ of people like him! I-” He twisted around with such ferocity that Qwark released him and took a step back, for good measure. “Why’d you do that?”

The superhero looked ready to answer, only to respond with a shaky shrug instead. Ratchet rubbed the back of his hand over his nose. The dust in the air was making it itch.

Ratchet attempted to slow his racing pulse with several long breaths. “Qwark…” his chest shook with another shuddering inhalation, “Qwark, I want you to help me keep an eye out. This place…I don’t want to be here anymore than you do. Let’s just get through this, and…” His gaze wandered over to where his friend continued to sit in the dust. He had not stirred from his stupor since their fall. And he knew robots could withstand more than organics could.

He chewed on his lower lip. What was he supposed to do? He had never seen Clank like this before. The closest was back on the rainy planet, after Ophelia… He gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to think about her again.

Ratchet and Qwark exchanged glances, neither wanting to approach the robot in his vacant state. Sucking in a breath, the Lombax forced his feet forward and picked his friend up by the hand to transfer him to his harness. A painless process, to be sure, but one which left him feeling cold inside.

They continued off down the canyon, the Captain remaining at his comrade’s side rather than straying behind as he had before. The entire time, Ratchet’s body remained tensed and his ears drawn back as every ounce of his concentration went into listening. He would not be surprised again.

It took half an hour, stretched into something that felt much longer, for the canyon to open up into a wider space. Upon leaving the shadows, they stopped to survey their surroundings. Unless his mind was playing tricks on him, the junk seemed to be arranged with a bit more order here, some of it piled high into a tangle of shapes with indistinct, open doorways, while other bits of refuse appeared welded together or bolted to the cliff face.

This…village, if one could even call it that, encircled the massive husk of what remained of a truly impressive tree. Its trunk appeared blackened and hardened, as if tempered with a great heat, all but the sturdiest branches long since burned away.

“So…so this is where…” Qwark began in a near whisper, tapping the ends of his fingers together, “this is where they live, huh?” There was an audible gulp. “Homey.”

So Aphelion had been right, after all.

Ratchet resumed his earlier forward march, Qwark keeping close by his side, as if he thought his companion’s far smaller form would actually offer protection. The Lombax attempted to peer into the dark confines of the crooked hovels that they passed, his trigger finger tightening. He stopped before the great tree, so gnarled and encrusted in ash, it was difficult to believe it had once been alive. He lifted one hand to set upon it, but withdrew when the bark crumbled at his touch.

“R-Ratchet…”

He looked up at the superhero’s trembling voice, even if the warning wasn’t necessary. Just now, he could have sworn he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, the retreating form of…something or someone to his right. But once his attention had fully settled on the spot where he thought he had seen them, all that met his searching gaze was a few bits of loose rubble sliding down the front of a ramshackle dwelling a dozen feet from where he stood.

Ratchet turned to look the other way. His heart jumped when he caught sight of faces peering out of misshapen windows and doorways, some flinching away at his gaze, while others refused to break eye contact. Even though they remained obscured by shadow, he could tell they were a green-skinned race, with bits of metal intertwined with brightly-colored tufts of hair and layered clothing. His eyes narrowed.

She lied to us.

The Lombax took a step forward. Half of their audience vanished like a family of gophers that had just spotted a hawk. A quick check over his shoulder informed him that even more had appeared behind them to watch the pair from the safety of ramshackle homes. Even then, they totaled no more than 50 or 60, in a village that seemed capable of fitting far more.

Without thinking, Ratchet raised his blaster as a scrawny woman stumbled out of the trash with a rifle gripped in her hands. She wobbled on her feet, her thin frame looking as if it took all her strength just to support her weapon.

“G-get outta here!” she said, her voice high and wavering. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was armed, it would be uncertain how much conviction she really had in this command.

“We just want to talk. That’s all,” Ratchet said, his words slow and careful as he looked down the barrel of the gun aimed straight between his eyes. Beside him, Qwark had merely opted for holding his hands in the air. “So just…lower your weapon…”

The woman shook her head with a frantic vigor.

“I’ll…I’ll drop my gun if you do,” Ratchet said, just now taking note of how dry his mouth was. “Okay? On the count of three. One.” The woman tightened her grip on the trigger. “Two.” No change. Could be worse. He could be dead. “Three.” He waited a beat, dropping his weapon in the dirt a moment later. She didn’t follow his lead. This was probably why he didn’t gamble.

“Hey, break it up, okay!”

Ratchet’s gaze remained glued to the woman before him. He didn’t need to see who was approaching to know who it was. That voice was undeniably familiar.

“What I say, Beatriz! Leave them alone! These are my friends.”

The Lombax’s gaze wavered for only a second, but he continued to maintain eye contact with his would-be assassin for several moments longer until she turned away. His immediate safety assured, for now, his attention shifted to Ophelia. She was standing roughly ten feet away, though she continued to adjust her weight from one foot to another, as if reconsidering her current position. He just hoped she had the same direction in mind that he did.

How long she had been waiting for their arrival on this forsaken hunk of rock, he had no idea, but she already looked a bit worse for wear. As rough as one’s appearance inevitably was when adorned in bits of trash, the thin layer of dust that covered her green skin was new, as was the ragged, too-large jacket she now wore draped about her person. How she decided which holes were there on purpose and which were not was a mystery.

“H-hey, guys.” She lifted a hand in a wave that was redacted halfway through when she realized no one planned to return the motion. “I haven’t seen you since-”

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Ratchet said. His blaster was still lying at his feet, but he dare not pick it up. Even though their most recent attacker had since vanished, he had a feeling there were plenty who would be more than willing to finish what she had started. Eyeing the faces that continued to watch them from a distance, he went on, “You’ve been hiding something from us, haven’t you?”

At that, Ophelia’s formerly crooked smile flattened into something more serious. “It’s not what you think-”

“Yeah, you think so, huh?” Ratchet paused, giving his words a chance to lose some of their edge when a few members of their audience stirred. “Try me, and we’ll see if we’ve got the same thing in mind.”

Ophelia pursed her lips and met his gaze with an icy calmness. “Do you wanna hold on to that assumption of yours or do you wanna hear the truth?”


	21. Tragic Backstories Are All the Rage

After their reunion with Ophelia, the necessary explanations had to be delayed until after Clank and Captain Qwark were dismissed back to Aphelion, their route taking them up a steep set of weatherworn steps carved into the cliff-face whose location would have never been revealed had Ophelia not guided them right to it.

To say it was unsafe for Clank to remain in a place so hostile to those of his kind was a gross understatement, and as the Lombax watched his friend’s tiny form climbing the eroded stairs a step behind the massive superhero, his heart sank at how utterly lost he looked. It seemed Qwark had noticed, as well, for when the robot stopped halfway up the steps, appearing completely unaware of anything around him, the Captain picked him up, carrying him in his arms the rest of the way like a small metal child.

Ratchet chewed on his lower lip. He felt sick. He had fought tyrants and saved the galaxy from destruction more times than he cared to remember. But he didn’t know what to do about _this_.

He jerked away from Ophelia’s touch when she placed a hand on his arm. Having gained his attention, she pointed at a spot in the cliff face whose significance was not understood until closer inspection revealed a tunnel that had been dug straight through the solid rock. As they crept along the narrow passage, dust rained down in a light cloud whenever one of Ratchet’s large ears brushed the low ceiling above them, causing him to cough when too much happened to enter his lungs. Just when he was beginning to feel a strong sense of claustrophobia, the ceiling disappeared upon their arrival in a small, circular stone room.

Peering upward to seek out the source of the light trickling in from above, he realized that the roof was several hundred feet above them, the boarded-up entrance to a well that had long since dried up. Large stones had been removed from the walls in various places to create alcoves for storing chipped clay pots and a decrepit old book, the majority of its pages missing and the binding just barely holding together. The words on the crumbling spine had long since been lost to time.

Ophelia plopped down against the wall opposite him, though the scant size of the makeshift room meant that this only put a mere three feet between them. With nowhere else to sit but the dusty ground, Ratchet followed suit on his own side of the abandoned well. Despite her promise to reveal the truth to him, a quick glance at his companion told him that Ophelia was working hard to avoid eye contact. When she seemed hardly ready to explain her actions, Ratchet opened his mouth to speak, this act alone enough to spur her into action.

“The one we’ve been searching for. I know who he is.” Her voice, low as it was, echoed throughout the small room, almost ghostly as it bounced skyward, as if seeking escape in the form of the well’s sealed entrance. At this thought, Ratchet’s mind recalled the faceless form of that robed enigma who had already attacked him on two occasions and shuddered. He knew it was just a hologuise, but the fact that their enemy had chosen that particular appearance to conceal his own, it was…unsettling.

When this half-revelation failed to remove the stern frown on the Lombax’s face, she went on. “I-I suspected it for a long time, but I didn’t think…he would go so far. I didn’t think he’d follow through with it. You know, people say a lot of things they don’t mean, and-”

“Just get to the point,” Ratchet said. He hoped Clank made it back safely. Qwark wasn’t exactly…he supposed part of being a team was trusting your comrades. That’s why Ophelia had to go.

Her shoulders lifted with a deep breath, even as her eyes remained downcast. “The person we’re looking for…is a guy named Petaer Iccultos. He was once my friend. My…my _best_ friend. We lived on this planet together, we grew up together, and we escaped together. But we split ways. Because we wanted different things.”

“Y-your _friend_?” These words echoed much too loudly in such cramped quarters, forcing Ratchet to lower his voice to better match hers. “This…friend of yours tried to kill us, Ophelia! If you knew, you should have told us sooner!”

“I know, but for a while, he was the only person I had. And what good would it really do, huh? I wouldn’t even know-” She paused for just a second before locking her eyes upon his, the other half of his statement just now sinking in. “He tried to kill you? Are you serious?”

Dead serious, but he hated to think of how close to literal that statement had almost been for him. Instead, he settled for a dire nod of affirmation, his lips pressed tightly together.

“I-I’m sorry.” Her gaze wandered across the smooth stones making up the floor, dust caking the crevasses between them, as if looking for a solution that had already come too late. “I’m…really sorry.”

His mouth twisted into a grimace. He wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe because being sorry was of little use when matters of life and death were concerned. “So, if you know who this guy is, how do we find him?”

“I don’t know. He…I don’t think he ever stays in one place for very long. We’re loners. We don’t belong outside our corner of the galaxy. At least, that’s the way it feels for me.”

Ratchet sighed. “Well, can you at _least_ tell me what he wants? You said that the two of you split ways. Over _what_?”

“Um…well, when we left Virditia all those years ago…he was angry. I mean, you’ve already seen it, right? How hostile my people are towards…” It was here that she trailed off, eyeing her comrade with a quick flick of her gaze from beneath her unkempt mane of red hair. Taking in a deep breath, she continued, ‘He wanted to get back at those who had hurt us. You know, the ones we felt were responsible for the death of our families and our planet. He…I think…he talked about creating a massive EMP that would destroy all the machines, all the _robots_ , in the galaxy.”

Ratchet stiffened. “I-is that even possible?”

“With Dr. Nefarious, it might be.”

“Nefarious was arrested, so your _friend_ is going to have a tough time getting to him now. And what is with this planet’s hatred of robots?”

“If they had killed your family, you’d hate them too!” As soon as these words had crossed her lips, her mouth clamped shut, the sudden intensity flowing out of her expression as quickly as it had appeared. “You must understand,” she went on, her earlier calm returned as if it had never left, “our planet, and those we had settled on, were all destroyed in a war when the robots we had built to work for us revolted. The robots were all wiped out, and most of us with them. All of this,” she swept an arm out above her, surely referring to the lifeless plain they both knew resided overhead, “was once a beautiful forest and tranquil green meadows. They say water flowed from the very ground, and not one inch of Virditia wasn’t covered in lush plant life as far as the eye could see. But the war…burned that all away. It scorched the very sky. The entire time I lived here, I never once saw so much as a single green sapling or felt the cool rain on my face. I-I never saw any of it. It was all gone before I was born.”

Ophelia wiped the sleeve of her jacket across her face, too slow to prevent the glint of something wet on her cheek. Ratchet looked away, not just to avoid staring at her in her current state, but in remembrance of what lay outside. Even Veldin hadn’t been so desolate. Even on his desert home world, there was life, if you knew where to look for it. Furthermore, he could imagine how difficult it would be to lose one’s family. It was hard enough for him, and he had never actually known them, had never even had a chance to become attached before they were snatched away. Maybe…maybe that was better. He wasn’t sure.

But that didn’t justify blaming the wrong side. The Virditians were the oppressors here, not the robots. Even so, he didn’t think he would get anywhere trying to explain that to her.

Ratchet’s attention returned to her when an idea made itself known through the clearing mist of his mind. “He had his ship coordinates set to a black hole in the middle of the Tenebri Sector. Big Al…uh, our friend back on Kerwan, said there was something special about that place. He said that…some ancient society had once been out there?” He leaned forward. “Do you…know anything about that?”

Ophelia didn’t answer at first, her gaze clouded with unheard thoughts of her own. “Nefarious was arrested?” she said at last. “Wh-where did they take him?”

“Zordoom. Stop worrying about him. We have one villain out of the way. Now we just need to get rid of another.”

She shook her head. “I just…thought he could help us, that’s all. He has as much reason for stopping Petaer as we do. We could use another-”

“Ophelia, we don’t need a murderer on our team.” Jeez, he was sick and tired of hearing her defend that psychopath. Nefarious had only helped them escape because he had been given no other choice. Clearly, the chance to kill them hadn’t arisen, or he would have done so without a second thought. Sometimes, he had to really wonder what was wrong with the universe when people like that could be allowed to exist. “What we _do_ need,” his voice rose in volume, uncaring of the reverberations that threatened to cover up his words, “are answers. You clearly know more than you’re letting on. Now is the time to tell me _everything_.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have time,” Ratchet said. And she had wasted enough of it already.

“My people have passed down a legend,” Ophelia began, her eyes closing in a slow blink, like one recounting a much yearned-for dream. “We…believe that there was a planet a few thousand years ago called N’De. It was peaceful, without war or hardship. But as the years went by, different groups left to settle on other worlds and form their own colonies.

“They began to fight with one another, until the mother world, N’De, put a stop to it. We don’t know how they did it, but they maintained peace for a thousand years, until it all came to an end when they were swallowed up by a black hole. We, too, tried to keep peace, a long time ago, and live like the N’Deans. We believe we are directly descended from them, you see, that our people escaped before the black hole grew too strong, to settle on Virditia, the most fertile planet we could find. And we _did_ live in harmony for a while, until we decided to build machines to make life easier for us.” She breathed out a dry laugh. “Ironic, huh?

“The robots eventually turned on us and fought back. We lost many worlds to them, and most of our people perished. We, my friend included, think this tragedy was brought about because we forgot our roots. The N’Deans were deeply in tune with nature, and we turned from our ways out of greed and laziness. Many believe N’De still exists within the black hole, cut off from the rest of the universe to remain pure and free of the vices that cause the rest of us so much pain.

“My friend thinks they are still alive, too. He…he thinks he can atone for our sins by wiping out all the robots in the galaxy, and only then will N’De come back to us. I want peace, too, but his way of going about it…” She made a choked sound in her throat and was only able to force out, “wrong. It’s-it’s wrong.”

The weak light from above had begun to dim further with twilight. Ratchet’s ears twitched as he puzzled over a nagging reminder from over a week ago. “When we spoke to Al,” he began with a pensive tilt to his head, “he mentioned a device called, uh…the Four Horsemen, I think. What was _that_?”

“The…” the corner of her mouth was pulled upward in a smirk, and she barked out a sudden laugh, “oh, right, _that_! I almost forgot that part. I don’t know, I think I heard that it was, um…” she paused, studying the ceiling as she attempted to recall what she knew. Snapping her fingers, she continued, “It was…uh…a big power source or…some kind of magnetic anomaly…or something weird like that. It’s supposed to be so powerful, I think Petaer figured it would be a good energy source for his, you know, galaxy-wide EMP. I mean, the best way to defeat the enemy is to wipe them all out before they know what hit ‘em.”

That was true, he supposed. He could scarcely imagine what sort of damage something so widespread could cause. Such an EMP would wipe out all electricity and communications for trillions of people on countless planets, not to mention stranding any space travelers unfortunate enough to be caught up in it. And worst of all, it would kill every robot in the galaxy. It would kill Clank. And, short of fleeing the Solana Galaxy outright, there was nothing Ratchet could do to protect him.

Internally, he gave a humorless laugh. It was basically Dr. Nefarious’ plan to destroy all organics, only in reverse. How ironic that this guy was trying to use the supervillain for such a plot.

The rest of Ophelia’s explanation began to kick in, and an uneasy feeling of relief washed over him. “Well,” Ratchet began, “there’s not much this guy can do as far as the black hole’s concerned. That…power source or whatever you think it is… it’s safely out of his reach. I just don’t know what _else_ -”

“But it _isn’t_. That thing still exists. There’s research to back it up, and-”

This time, it was his turn to interrupt. “Woah, hold on a second.” Ratchet waved both hands in front of him. “The Four Horsemen, and all those people that lived in the area, are gone now. No one survives getting sucked into a black hole.”

“Tell that to the scientists who said otherwise.” Ophelia crossed her arms, a silent challenge to speak over her once more. “After Petaer and I left Virditia, we travelled around for a while, looking for a new home. One day, I thought we should visit the only N’De planet remaining after the black hole devoured everything else. I wanted to learn more about our ancestors, to see if the rumors about them still being alive were true. Or, at least, to learn the secret of how they maintained a peaceful society all those centuries ago.

“It was here that we came across an old scientific research facility. In their files, the ones we could access, at least, they believed that the…um, Four Horsemen still existed. It was such a powerful…whatever it is, that they theorized that it could have…stabilized the black hole or something? Like…instead of just sucking everyone up, the black hole might have instead spat everyone out into some other dimension.

“I’m not really explaining it all that well, but they more or less confirmed that the anomaly is still out there. They even detected faint radio waves specific to the Four Horsemen coming from the black hole and everything. And if _that_ thing still exists, maybe our ancestors do, too.” She laughed, though the sound held no humor. “Unfortunately, our brief visit was also what put that nasty idea into Petaer’s head. That’s why he wants to travel into the black hole, so he can harness the Four Horsemen’s energy. And he thought he could do it with Nefarious’ help. He still can, too. It probably wouldn’t be that hard for him to break old grouch-face out of jail.”

Ratchet rubbed his face with the palms of both hands. This was just getting too confusing. “Okay, so let me get this straight. Your friend really thinks he can just…jump into a black hole and find another dimension with a mystical power source. Right?”

She stared at him, face twisted into a curious sort of expression that said she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of his words. It likely didn’t provide any clarification at all that he might have been smiling. He was just so tired.

Ophelia opened her mouth, looking quite indignant as she attempted to explain her side without receiving further mockery in return. “Well, _yeah_ , the N’Deans had a whole team of researchers studying this thing. And if _they_ say it exists, then maybe it does. The idea of alternate dimensions isn’t completely insane, right? That’s a _thing_.”

He supposed it was, or else where the heck had the Lombaxes gone? Even so…

“Just look into it! You and Clank, you go and check out their research for yourselves and tell me if I’m wrong. He’s smart. You’ll listen to _him_ , won’t you?”

“Ophelia, your friend wants to do the impossible!”

“Look, I’m just trying to help you. You want to explore all your options, don’t you? Is it really worth risking all the robots in the galaxy just because…” she bit her lower lip, “just because you think my idea’s silly?”

Ratchet rolled his eyes. “Fine, we’ll look into it, but only because we don’t have any other leads at the moment. _What_ planet did you say it was?”

“Um…” the appearance of an awkward grin was less than promising, “I kind of forgot the name of it, but I think it’s in the Zeta Sector now.”

_Now?_ “Right…” It took all of his willpower to prevent the palm of his hand from paying his face an unexpected visit. He supposed that at least narrowed their options down. Provided she had at least remembered that little detail correctly.

Ratchet directed tired eyes upward, taking note of the fact that the already scant light shining down through the well’s opening was nearly gone. “We’ll see what we can find out, but I can’t guarantee anything. I need to get back to my friends. They’re probably getting worried about me.”

She stood just as he did, in mimicry or in some silent protest, he knew not. “Oh. I-I see. I guess this is good bye?”

“Yeah, uh…bye, Ophelia. Thanks…for the information.” He remained where he was, staring back at her as she fiddled with the hem of her skirt, her attention having fallen to her feet. He knew what she wanted. But she was too much of a risk. She had already proven that much.

Ratchet turned away without another word, squeezing through the tunnel and arriving back in the canyon moments later. He could feel the inhabitants’ gaze following him as he made his way for the steps that would take him to higher ground, but thankfully, no one left the shadows provided by their crooked hovels to face him directly. He would have sighed a breath of relief upon reaching the plain above if it wasn’t the very thing that had put his best friend into his current state.

If Clank wasn’t so stubborn, Ratchet could have made him stay home…. Stubborn? That was more the Lombax’s trait than the robot’s. Loyal was a more accurate word for it. That simple fact was enough to twist his stomach up into an even tighter knot.

Before the Lombax had eclipsed much more than half the distance between Aphelion and the neglected slums, the sound of footsteps broke the silence behind him. He would have drawn his weapon had he not already had a pretty strong notion as to who it must be.

Frankly, he had expected her to stop him sooner.

“Ratchet, wait up!”

Though he stopped at her call, his back remained to her, his fists clenching at his side. She always had to make things more difficult than they needed to be. “Forget it, Ophelia. We’ll take it from here.”

“Don’t leave me! _Please!_ I have nowhere else to go!” There was a pause as the crunch of her footfalls ceased. “Nowhere I belong anyway.”

He would have kept going, would have ignored her pleas on the basis that this was the same person who had drawn a knife on him twice and had tried to prevent Dr. Nefarious’ arrest, if it wasn’t for the soft noise behind him.

“The Vullards see me as a nuisance. The Sciridai…they’re kind and all, but they know I’m not one of them. My family’s dead, Ratchet. But…I had fun with you guys. I felt like…like a part of the group.” A shuddering breath confirmed to him that tears were being shed. “I’m sorry I interfered on Kerwan, but I can do better this time! Just give me a second chance!”

Ratchet half-turned to send back, “I have to-”

“Just _talk_ to me.” Ophelia wiped her face with one arm. “The only one I had to talk to for the longest time was Petaer and he’s,” she drew in a deep breath, her last words a whisper that scarcely reached him, “gone. You’re…the only person I’ve felt like I could really speak to…since then.”

He sighed, the tension in his shoulders melting away into compliance. What was it about girls and crying that made guys give in? Then again, perhaps he wouldn’t have been so quick to relent if he hadn’t understood. A memory of another planet resurfaced in his mind, of Fastoon, the former home of the proud Lombax race. It figured that by the time he finally had a chance to visit the place of his birth, it would be long abandoned and left to ruin. It may have differed in name and in the race who had once inhabited it, but it was all the same in the end.

He could always relate in terms of losing one’s family and homeland. He wished he could give support to those in need without personal experience to back it up.

The pebbles crunched beneath his boots as he turned to face her head-on. “Okay, what do you wanna talk about?”

A sobbing sort of laugh escaped her, a curious combination of emotions. “Thanks, Ratchet.”

They found a small plateau of rock roughly twenty feet across and nearly half that in height, where they could sit above the plain, beneath the withered trunk of an old tree whose branches were adorned with hanging bits of scrap metal. In the darkness, it was easy to forget that the wreckage stretching for miles beneath them was actually the remains of robots whose artificial lives had been ended nearly a century prior. In the dark, it was easy to forget a lot of things.

Ophelia got to work kindling a quick bonfire from dried twigs she had gathered from the tree’s base, which she had set ablaze with a match she had retrieved from the pocket of her tattered coat. Ratchet sat cross-legged nearby, staring at the sky with the stagnant cold air hanging heavily upon his face. Looking upon the heavens, when so few stars presented themselves, somehow had a way of making one feel even smaller.

“Hey, I’ve got a great ghost story. It involves an old shed in the woods, a severed toe, and a porcelain doll.”

Ratchet jumped when that sudden voice broke the temporary silence. Even once he had recalled who it was, that didn’t cause his thundering heart to slow. Ophelia laughed, wet streaks on her cheeks shimmering in the budding firelight. Clearly she had misunderstood where his startled expression was really coming from.

“Kidding.” She sat down on the other side of the fire, sniffing, but saying no more.

Though a large part of him wanted sorely to curl up somewhere and sleep for a hundred years, Ratchet figured he might as well put an effort in. He had agreed to this whole thing, after all, and the least he could do was participate. “So…this the first time you’ve returned home?” _Could_ this place be considered home? As much as Fastoon was technically _his_ home, the rubble hadn’t exactly felt very welcoming, either.

He mentally shook the thought away.

“Yeah.” She pulled her knees in to herself, her next inhale of breath uneven. Her voice wavered as she continued, “I-I never wanted to return here, but I thought I owed you the truth.”

He said nothing to this. When he turned to the woman on the other side of the bonfire, she had pulled her knees all the more closely to herself.

“Ophelia,” he began, “I-I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for your best friend to…choose the path that he did. But I do understand what it’s like to lose one’s family.”

He dropped onto his back, allowing his view to be overtaken by nothing more than the stars above. At once, he was transported back to his days on Veldin, the scarce number of stars doing little to dispel the illusion. Back then, when yet another lonely night had stolen over his garage on the Kyzil Plateau, he would do this very thing, pointing out all the planets he would visit one day, regardless of whether or not he knew their names. There had been no one there to correct him anyway.

“I grew up alone on Veldin,” Ratchet told the stars. They used to be the only ones he could speak to. But hey, they were always good listeners, right? “I was an orphan, thanks to a Cragmite called Tachyon who forced all the other Lombaxes to flee into another dimension. Back then, the _only_ thing I thought mattered in my life was the fact that I was alone.”

“So…what did you do?” Ophelia asked.

“That’s the funny thing. I didn’t have to do anything. I spent all this time trying to build a ship so I could leave my world behind, but that’s not what made my life better. Everything really changed because I-” a lazy grin spread itself across his lips, “I have Clank now, and that’s all I need.”

“You see, that’s nice. I wish…I wish I had that. I wish I had a close friend again. One that really understood me. Even so, wouldn’t it be nice if you could get your people back? I’ve often thought that…maybe my ancestors are still out there, on the other side of that black hole. Just out of reach, but there. Kind of like what you said about the Lombaxes.”

He glanced over to find that she, too, had opted for staring at the stars, arms tucked beneath her head. “I think you’re kind of missing my point.”

“I know, I know. But, wouldn’t it be great if,” she reached one arm out above her, “you could just…reach out and…” her fist closed, “pluck them free?”

Ratchet shrugged. That would be nice, but reuniting with his own kind had meant ripping open a hole between dimensions, along with the possibly of leaving Clank behind. As callous as it sounded, it just wasn’t worth it. The risk was too great, the loss something he was not willing to bear.

Azimuth had tried to do much the same thing once, years ago. He had almost destroyed the universe in the process, so desperate was he to atone for past mistakes. Had Clank not intervened, would he _himself_ have done the same thing without a thought for the consequences? Honestly, considering he was once a selfish and lonely mechanic who thought only of his own interests, it was very possible.

“You’re awfully quiet, Ratchet.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Just when he started to forget that he was alone, someone had to go and remind him.

“Ratchet?” Her voice was soft, barely audible over the quiet crackling of the fire. “Can I rejoin the team? This is personal, and…I...”

When she failed to continue, he repeated, “ _And_?”

“And…” she sat up, “and I like you. You remind me of my friend. Except, without villainous tendencies.” She chuckled. “You’re strong and smart, and…unlike him, you do the right thing.”

She apparently had a much higher opinion of his moral standing than he did.

She leaned in closer. “I promise I’ll be better this time. I’m…I’m sorry for the trouble I caused…for preventing Nefarious from getting arrested and all that. I just thought…I shouldn’t have gotten in the way.”

Ratchet sighed. He knew she was going to ask that eventually. “It only delayed the inevitable.”

“Huh?”

“He’s in jail now. You only delayed it. I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

She smiled. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

Frankly, he wasn’t sure how to answer that.


	22. Do Adventures Go Better with Ranch or Honey Mustard?

Ratchet and Ophelia headed back to Aphelion long after the arrival of nightfall, the Virditian trailing along behind with a makeshift torch obtained from their recent bonfire to guide their way through the blackness. The desolate plain through which they had no choice but to pass was devoid of any sign of life, the chirp of insects normally so prevalent amongst a wide collection of planets and environments across the galaxy utterly absent here. In the eerie silence, it was hard for Ratchet to dismiss the chilling notion that this planet, as well as its people, were waiting to die.

Though he would have surely guessed that Captain Qwark would be asleep by now, it was to the Lombax’s surprise when he spotted the silhouette of the man’s bulk sitting atop Aphelion’s prow, illuminated from behind by the ship’s cockpit lights. On the other side of the divide splitting Aphelion’s twin engines, it was easy to spot the glow of two small green lights signifying the tiny form of Clank.

Qwark stood at their approach, a broad grin spreading across his large features, though a weariness tinged his eyes that seemed to stretch beyond a mere lack of sleep. In fact, the superhero had gotten far more rest during the flight here than Ratchet had, so his tired appearance could only stem from something deeper.

“You’re back later than I expected. I was beginning to think I’d have to enact a daring rescue….” He trailed off when Ratchet cast a worried frown in Clank’s direction. Even now, the robot had yet to acknowledge his friend’s arrival, instead continuing to stare at the ground below his dangling feet. “So…any exciting revelations you’d like to share with us?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Ratchet let out, unable to hide just how exhausted he felt. Pointing a thumb behind him, he added, “This is Ophelia. We met her a while back. The details don’t matter, so don’t ask.”

Seeing her introduction, hurried though it may have been, as an invitation to speak, Ophelia stepped forward. “I finally figured out who the enemy is. He’s actually an old friend of mine who turned to evil. It’s a long story, but I can explain the details later.” She threw her arms into the air. “Hooray! It’s great news, right?”

The only one who seemed to be paying attention was Qwark, who perked up at Ophelia’s encouragement. “See, Ratchet, we’re getting somewhere. Mission accomplished!”

Ratchet snarled in the superhero’s general direction, only to regret it immediately afterward. Just because he was worried about Clank, that was really no excuse to be grouchy. He stopped beside the robot, bending over to better peer into his friend’s optics. “Hey, Clank, Ophelia’s got a pretty wild idea, and I need your help making sense of it. You think you can do that, buddy?”

Clank lifted his head, though the blank stare failed to leave his face. “I will try my best, Ratchet,” was all the tiny robot said. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Ratchet forced himself to smile and patted Clank on the shoulder. “Okay, so…” Where did he even begin? “You know the black hole we found in the Tenebri Sector? And the Four Horsemen Al told us about?”

The robot nodded.

“Well…Ophelia thinks that the Four Horsemen is some kind of powerful…anomaly that got sucked into the black hole centuries ago. But, instead of being destroyed, our enemy thinks it might still exist, just…in another dimension. Is this…even possible?”

Ophelia released a loud huff. “The Four Horsemen was powerful enough to stabilize the black hole and create another dimension. You said it wrong, Ratchet.”

“Close enough.”

“And the black hole swallowed up not only the Four Horsemen, but all the planets in the surrounding area. They still exist. It’s supported by science.”

“Okay, Ophelia.”

Having been switching his focus between the two of them throughout this entire exchange, Clank’s attention finally settled back on his friend. “I suppose, in theory, it…might be possible.”

Ratchet’s eyes widened. “Say what now?”

“It is highly improbable,” the diminutive robot went on, “that anything could have survived a trip inside a black hole, but it is not _im_ possible. While it is common knowledge that the gravitational pull inside a black hole is strong enough to strip even atoms, it is not unheard of for people to travel through them. Ratchet, you remember the time we travelled through the Verdigris Black Hole, do you not?”

“Well,” Ratchet scratched his ear, “yeah, but that was more of a _worm_ hole. That was different.”

“Why, yes,” the robot said with a nod, “but allow me to explain. A worm hole comes into existence when two black holes in entirely different locations in the universe connect. It has a…stabilizing effect, you might say, allowing the massive energy created by a black hole to be channeled elsewhere, not to mention allowing space travelers, such as ourselves, to reach another location in the galaxy far quicker than by normal means.”

This whole time, a smile had begun forming on Ratchet’s face that had little to do with the substance of the conversation and everything to do with the fact that it was happening at all. Leave it to Clank to have his mood brightened by the mere opportunity to discuss matters of science.

“Okay, I guess I follow. But what’s this have to do with _her_ idea?” the Lombax asked as he gestured at Ophelia, who had been nodding fit to sprain her neck throughout the entirety of the little robot’s explanation. Even her smug expression wasn’t enough to cause his grin to falter.

“That is exactly what I was getting to. You see, when two black holes connect two distant corners of the universe, it creates a bend in the fabric of space. In the same way, I believe it might be possible for a black hole to instead create a _tear_ in space, allowing all its energy to channel into the hole it created. If a force exists that is as powerful as a black hole, it could have indeed stabilized it enough to essentially transfer the objects within its pull elsewhere rather than outright destroying them.”

Ratchet furrowed his brow as he attempted to wrap his mind around the robot’s explanation. “So you think this black hole ate the Four Horsemen,” he glanced at Ophelia, “along with the nearby planets, and…spit them out into another dimension?”

Clank nodded. “Or perhaps the space _between_ dimensions, yes. Of course, I would need more information before I could come to any proper conclusion.”

“And that’s exactly what you shall have,” Ophelia said, shaking one finger skyward in grand fashion. “I know of an old research facility where scientists once studied the Four Horsemen. If there’s anywhere we might find answers, that would be it.”

“Excellent!” Captain Qwark sniffed the air, fists on his waist. “Ah, I smell another adventure at hand!”

Ophelia mimicked the superhero’s posture, head held high. “I smell it, too! It smells like…” she sniffed again, “sandalwood?”

“Yes, and manliness. That’s my cologne.”

Ratchet laughed when Clank directed a bewildered expression his way. “Rest up, you guys. ‘Adventure’ awaits us in the morning.”

When it became clear that the Lombax was moving to take the only semi-comfortable sleeping quarters, Qwark pointed a finger at Ophelia. “Hey, uh, _you_ …”

The woman in question lifted a hand. “Hi, I’m Ophelia. We met five minutes ago. If you don’t count that meeting we had with the President a few weeks back.”

Qwark was silent for a moment as he thought this over. “Yes. Ophelia. I knew that. You’re from around here, right? You wouldn’t happen to know of any good hotels in the area, would you?”

“You’ll sleep in the dirt, and you’ll like it, mister.”

Maybe allowing Ophelia to rejoin the group wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

* * *

By virtue of his already-weakened state (although Ratchet was slowly recovering, he supposed he could always have a convenient relapse whenever he so chose), the Lombax spent the night in Aphelion’s cockpit, torn between slumber and nagging thoughts that tried to steal sleep away from him whenever he allowed his mind to wander.

What did you do when you were faced with a villain you couldn’t find? One you had to merely wait to reappear, and who would surely stop at nothing to achieve a goal that could very well be impossible, but was catastrophic if it wasn’t? Was it likely Ophelia’s old companion would finally give up when he realized how insane his plans were? And if so, would they be able to survive his random onslaughts until this realization set in?

It wasn’t a comforting thought.

Clank was the only one small enough, and the only one welcome, to share the cramped space with him, but rather than rest, something robots did more often to kill time than for actual necessity, his friend merely spent the entire night searching for _something_ in Aphelion’s databanks. When questioned as to what exactly it was that he was seeking, the Lombax was only informed that Clank didn’t know himself. And such an answer, in this case, seemed more honest than evasive.

With no other options handy, Captain Qwark and Ophelia were forced to sleep outdoors. It was believed that the former had tried, at one point, to use the latter as a pillow, based on the indignant scream that had cut the silence shortly before midnight. It was a bit unfair, Ratchet supposed, to expect them to sleep in such uncomfortable conditions when he, at least, had the benefit of sleeping indoors, but it was a small ship, and Qwark was far too big and snored far too loudly. And Ophelia had a penchant for knives. With that in mind, Ratchet could only hope the superhero’s snoring didn’t bother her too greatly.

He didn’t dislike Qwark _that_ much.

The following morning, Ratchet exited the cockpit to better stretch his legs just as Clank was logging off from the ship’s databanks, the results of last night’s research as of yet uncertain. All the Lombax received in response to the usual morning greetings was a mumbled “morning” from Qwark as the superhero massaged a sore neck, while Ophelia stretched from where she had just woken up a short distance away, her hair flattened on one side, but already expanding to its original fluff.

Ratchet couldn’t resist a yawn when she did the same seconds prior. Why yawns were contagious would always prove to be one of the universe’s greatest mysteries. Along with the impossibility of sneezing with one’s eyes open. “Guess we better head out. You sure you don’t remember the name of the planet we’re looking for?”

Ophelia shook her head, still blinking sleep from her eyes. Based on how little she had managed to pry her eyelids open, it seemed she was currently fighting a losing battle. “No, sorry. Like I already told you, all I know is it floated off to the Zeta Sector after the black hole did its thing.” She yawned again. It seemed Ratchet had gotten the most rest out of anyone last night, and he didn’t recall being able to sleep all that much.

Ratchet turned back to Clank, only the robot’s head visible from where he remained in the ship’s cockpit. “You know what she might be talking about, Clank?”

“I do believe there is a drifting planet in that sector. Since no one recalls from which solar system it originated, and it is unfit for habitation, it was simply referred to as Zeta-13. Could this be the planet to which you are referring?”

Ratchet shrugged. “It’s the closest lead we’ve got. Thanks, pal.” He flashed a smile that his friend just barely managed to return. It was a start.

Their next stop was the Zeta Sector, huh? That wasn’t too far from Kerwan. A twinge of homesickness settled in the pit of Ratchet’s stomach. “Hey, I have an idea. Would you guys be down with a short detour?”

“Does the detour include ice cream?” Ophelia asked. She didn’t appear to be joking. Qwark’s eyes lit up, apparently expecting an answer in the affirmative, as well.

Sending her a confused glance, Ratchet continued, “I was thinking of asking Sasha for a favor, see if she’d be willing to lend us a bigger ship. With so many of us, living out of Aphelion’s not really the best option.”

Qwark, who had appeared half-dead from lack of sleep, was the first to respond with a relieved groan. “I was hoping someone was going to say that. Camping is not my thing. Something big crawled over me last night.” He visibly shuddered at the reminder.

“We have large spiders around here,” Ophelia said. “They say cockroaches are the only things that would live through the apocalypse, but the funny thing is, the spiders are about the only thing that survived the war. The cockroaches are all dead, though.”

“I thought you enjoyed wrestling with wolves…” Ratchet said under his breath, while the superhero proceeded to contort this way and that as he inspected every inch of his green spandex suit for any sign of the aforementioned bugs.

“I think you’re good, big guy. The bugs only come out at night,” Ophelia said, putting little effort into hiding her obvious smirk. “But I second the notion. I’d like my own space so I never have to hear the Captain’s snoring ever again. I contemplated death several times last night.”

Unaware, and uncaring, of whose death she was referring to, Qwark planted indignant fists on his waist, his search for spiders seemingly forgotten. “I do _not_ snore! Where’s your proof?”

“You sound like an orchestra of bullfrogs choking on peanut butter!”

Shaking his head at the ensuing argument, Ratchet turned to his friend, lifting one eyebrow. “Clank?”

“It sounds like a logical decision to me, Ratchet. Plus, President Phironix _did_ say she wanted an update on our status.”

“Right. I almost forgot. Okay, everyone, unless you wanna keep sleeping outside, quiet down!”

That was enough to stop their squabbling.

The Lombax crawled back into the cockpit, settling down beside Clank before switching on the radio as their comrades gathered around. A crackling emanated from the device for just a second before Sasha’s voice came in, choppy, but there.

“Yes, this is President Phironix.”

“Hey, uh, Sasha, this is Ratchet.”

“Ratchet, yes, did you find out anything interesting on Virditia?”

“Well, interesting is one word for it. It turns out the person we’re looking for grew up here, and we think he intends on…” His next words caught in his throat. He cast an uneasy glance in Clank’s direction before continuing on, “Um…we think he’s after…look, I don’t know all the details yet, but we’re heading to the Zeta Sector next. This whole thing’s been kind of a wild goose chase, and…I was thinking we could really benefit from a larger ship.”

Before he could stop her, Ophelia leaned in towards the radio. “Yeah, Ratchet made us sleep on the ground!”

At her indirect encouragement, Qwark added, “Do you have anything with a sauna?”

Ratchet spoke over the superhero when he looked ready to expand on his list of requests. “Ignore them. So, what do you say?”

“Well, the Phoenix I is currently not in use, and I’d be happy to lend her to you. You should be more than familiar with her anyway.”

“R-really, the Phoenix?” Ratchet asked. “Can…can I pilot her?”

Sasha laughed. “Of course, Ratchet. You two have done so much for the galaxy, it’s the least I can do. The Phoenix will be docked at Galactic Ranger headquarters. I’m sure she’ll meet your needs. Is there anything else I can do?”

“No, I think,” Ratchet’s arm shot out to hold Ophelia at bay before she could comment further, and to prevent her from falling into the cockpit entirely, “I think we’re good. Thanks for everything.”

“No problem, Ratchet. Feel free to contact me anytime.” With one final hiss of static, she was gone.

* * *

Once again, Ratchet was shocked at Aphelion’s surprising capacity for holding passengers. As if it wasn’t already cramped enough with Qwark’s presence, the superhero’s bulk alone taking up over the half their limited quarters, the addition of Ophelia made Ratchet wonder if being a sardine in a tin would have been a more pleasant existence. Clank, once again, resigned himself to sitting in Ophelia’s lap, opening up just enough space that Ratchet could actually draw a full breath again.

They set their course for Kerwan, the fact that they had another week’s worth of space travel hardly dampening their moods thanks to the simple fact that their next destination, for the time being, was one that involved comfort rather than danger. Even Ophelia and Qwark’s chattering wasn’t enough to completely spoil the Lombax’s lightened demeanor.

At least, not for the first day or two.

The moment Ratchet’s earlier good mood began to truly take a turn for the worse was after Qwark had insisted on taking his boots off, an act that spurred Ophelia to do the same, declaring a moment later that she had never seen her toenail take on such a nice shade of purple before. It was during the ensuing span of silence, which Ratchet was using to imagine that two of the four people in the cockpit were not present, that one of those very two decided to prove he had one final trick up his spandex sleeve to illustrate new heights of obliviousness.

“You know what we should do?” the superhero asked, an odd note of cheer present in his voice that the Lombax hadn’t recalled feeling himself for quite some time. When no one answered beyond a disinterested stare in his direction, a raised eyebrow, or a combination of the two, he continued, “We should stop at the Galaxy Burger in Blackwater City. They have the best chicken nuggets and the one and only Bog Malt. It’s made from the native duckweed-”

“Hold on a minute,” Ratchet said. “You still eat chicken nuggets?”

“And how,” Ophelia began, “does one go about reducing a chicken into nuggets in the first place?”

Qwark laughed. “Well, _yeah_. They’re one of the few options that come with a prize. And to answer _your_ very excellent question, Ophelia, I like to think that they just use very small chickens. But, boy, was that cheap Secret Agent Clank action figure a rip-off. Who would want him when they could own a three-inch tall version of the greatest superhero who ever lived? I mean, look at this chin. If this doesn’t scream ‘irresistible chick magnet’, I don’t know what does.”

“I don’t know, either,” Ophelia told the windscreen.

Ratchet had to bite his lower lip to keep from voicing his own opinion on the matter. “Qwark, we are not stopping at Galaxy Burger. We already picked up enough snacks at that last fueling depot to last us a month.” He was fully aware that the hotdogs at gas stations were often of questionable quality, but he had learned by now that Qwark’s detours always had a habit of wasting far more time than he would have ever thought possible. Doubly so when Ophelia was involved. During their last stop, the superhero and Virditian duo had spent a half hour trying on various pairs of sunglasses. What Ophelia had found so funny, he had no idea.

“Besides,” the Lombax continued, “we have far more important things to be doing right now. Like,” he lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug, “let’s see…saving the galaxy, for example?” At least, that’s what he believed they were doing. Everything was starting to get a bit muddled lately. Run off to another random planet? Check. Save the galaxy…he had a feeling there were at least a few more items he’d have to scratch off his to-do list before he got that far.

“And eating a hearty meal isn’t? The first secret of my successful career as an amazing and wildly handsome superhero…”

“Would you still happen to have that Secret Agent Clank action figure?” the little robot asked as he stroked his own, far less manly chin.

“…is to never fight crime on an empty stomach. The second secret is to make sure you always visit the bathroom before entering any villain’s evil stronghold.” Pausing as he considered the question that had been directed his way mid-rant, he added, “Oh, sure, I still have it. It’s back at my condo.”

Ophelia raised one finger into the air. “I have a question, Mr. Hero.”

“Yes, Ophelia, in what way would you like me to enlighten you?”

“How can one consume a ‘hearty meal’ or beverage before infiltrating enemy territory, but not experience the need for an unexpected bathroom break? There’s this nectar the Sciridai like to drink, but it makes me have to pee even hours later!

“Excellent question, young lady. The key here is to know what your body can handle. A hero’s body is not only a weapon, but a biological enigma.”

Ratchet flinched when Ophelia turned her attention his way as if struck with a physical blow, fully aware of what she was about to say. “I have to tinkle, Ratchet.”

The Lombax bared his teeth in a growl. “You’re just saying that because-”

“That reminds me,” Qwark said as he scratched the side of his face, “I have to go to the bathroom, too.”

“Well, you should’ve listened to your second secret rule of how-not-to-wet-yourself,” Ratchet said, “during our last stop.”

“I didn’t have to go then!”

“I have to pee so bad, it hurts!” Ophelia squealed, the wide grin plastered across her face making the truth in her words doubtful. “And I really want that Bog Malt! It sounds amazing!” At least the truth always had a way of revealing itself eventually.

The superhero nudged her with one elbow. “Wanna hear a little secret? I like to dip my chicken nuggets…in the shake.”

Her eyes grew wide at such a shocking revelation. “That breaks so many rules, I just have to try it!” She turned back to the Lombax, bouncing in excitement and completely ignorant of the robot in her lap. “Come on, Ratchet, let’s just make a short, little stop. _Please_?”

A _short_ stop, huh? Yeah, and he was secretly a space pirate.

“Yes, pretty please?” Qwark added with clasped hands.

“No!”

“I can’t hold the call of nature forever. Just keep that in mind.” Ophelia grinned when Ratchet released a long sigh of defeat. Why was it that, after saving the galaxy innumerable times, he still _never_ got his way?

Within the hour, they had reached Rilgar and the specified Galaxy Burger where Qwark and Ophelia got a dozen orders of chicken nuggets, along with two of the fabled Bog Malts, whose already questionable identity grew twice as unappealing when she commented on “the chunks”. Ratchet settled with a simple burger when even his own stubbornness couldn’t make him forget that he had yet to eat that day, while Clank had no choice but to merely wait out their comrades’ newest episode of procrastination.

Though the local time was late evening, at Ophelia’s insistence, they ate at a table outside when the Lombax couldn’t coax them to bring their meals with them. A light rain pattered on the umbrella above them, while a curious rustling from over his shoulder caused Ratchet to take notice of a breed of luminous and rather large moths that had gathered around the nearby streetlight once the sun had gone down.

Despite the unsettling sight, this impromptu stop could have been relaxing if he didn’t have the notion of future troubles fluttering about inside his head in a manner not so unlike the moths, an idea of what was to come, without any real knowledge of it. All he could do was take life one step at a time. It just didn’t help that, sometimes, it felt like each step was being taken through a thick mire of sludge.

“You know, I’ve never been to a fast food restaurant before,” Ophelia said. The lid of her shake had already been pried loose in imitation of the superhero beside her, to make way for chicken nuggets and curly fries. “I’ve _heard_ of them, but this is the first time I’ve actually eaten at one.”

Ratchet lifted the corner of his bun for a second confirmation that they had neglected to add enough ketchup. Now that the rainfall had turned into an outright downpour, a trip back inside for more condiments didn’t seem too favorable. “You say that as if they were some kind of…mythical place. They’re all over the galaxy, you know. Billions of people go to them all the time.” He put the half-eaten burger down and crossed his arms on the table. He was hungry, all right. He just didn’t have the appetite.

“Well,” she paused with one fry in her shake, “not everyone has that luxury. Growing up…where I did…” she released a hollow laugh. “You know, we don’t need to get into that right now.”

When her attention returned to her meal, her eyes widened when she realized that the fry had slipped loose and was slowly sinking into the ice cream. With two fingers carefully poised, she attempted to grab it before it became lost for good, but her efforts only served to push it farther beneath the green mush. With the fry effectively beyond hope of recovery, she stuck the end of the fingers previously engaged in the rescue effort in her mouth.

By now, the majority of Captain Qwark’s shake had vanished, a brain freeze probably a malady he was immune to, for obvious reasons. His gaze switched between his three companions before finally settling on the pile of small plastic figures awarded them, courtesy of their kids’ meals.

“Hey, uh…” he began, directing one more furtive sweep about the table, before he asked, “none of you guys…want these, do you?”

Ratchet eyed the toys just once, his answer easily reached. “No, Qwark, take them all if you want.”

“Great. I’ve been keeping a particularly close eye on that Captain Blackstar figurine.” The superhero ended this confession with a nervous laugh when no one’s expression changed. He snuck a cautious hand to the center of the table and slid the entire pile in his direction, his eyes shifting from side to side as if he expected them to change their minds.

Once the spoils were safely in his possession, Qwark took to tapping the ends of his index fingers together. It was never a good sign when the superhero feigned thought. “It just…occurred to me,” he began, “that my newest holofilm, _Born to Be Awesome_ , started playing in theaters today. And, well, I don’t like to brag, but I _did_ star in it as the courageous, gun-toting, hero, Marco ‘The Loner’ Magnum.”

Internally, Ratchet gagged. Rising from the bench he and Clank shared on their respective end of the table, the Lombax carried his tray to the nearest trash bin. The rain had already started to clear up, meaning he couldn’t use that as an argument against traipsing about Blackwater City when they had a mission at hand. Sometimes, it really felt like the universe was conspiring against him. “We really need to get going. We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

Ophelia’s face brightened up. “I’ve never been to a theater before. Is it true they sell dangerously buttery popcorn?”

“Enough butter to stop your heart,” Qwark said with a wink. She licked her lips.

“Look, we don’t have time for this! We need to get to Kerwan. You’ll both have plenty of time to goof off once we reach the Phoenix.” As expected, the targets of his half-felt scolding were already rising from the table with grins that made it more than clear they intended the opposite of what he had in mind.

“Come on, Ratchet,” Ophelia said, “we’ve been flying pretty much non-stop for days. We need a break. Why don’t you come with us? It’ll be fun.”

He’d rather stick a fork in a toaster while sitting in a bathtub filled with eels, thank you very much.

It seemed the cringe that had crossed his face at the suggestion was all the indication she needed that her offer was unwelcome. “Fine, suit yourself! But I do hope you find some way to relax. You’ve been on edge ever since we left Virditia.” She attempted to link her arm around Qwark’s beefy bicep, though her reach didn’t extend much further than a third of the way there. “Let’s go, Mr. Hero! We’ve got a holofilm to catch!”

“This is why we travel alone!” Ratchet called after them. When it was clear that they had either not heard him or, as was more likely the case, outright ignoring him, he turned to Clank, who had yet to utter a single syllable since their arrival. “You doing okay, buddy?”

The robot didn’t answer at first, his attention directed elsewhere and nowhere all at once. “Yes,” he began at last, “I believe all my systems are quite operational.”

“That’s not really what I asked.” When his words came out with less warmth than he had intended, Ratchet nudged him with an elbow. This was enough to make his friend’s gaze focus on him.

“What we witnessed on Virditia was…disturbing. And yet…I have to wonder if this is…the correct response to such a sight. Robots are merely…machines. They… _we_ are…artificial.”

Ratchet sat back down, bringing his height closer to that of the robot’s. “The way you feel about something is never wrong, Clank. And, you know, just because a robot is made out of metal, that doesn’t make them artificial. I mean,” he pinched the fur on one arm between two fingers, “what makes flesh and bone real, huh? Who made _those_ rules?”

Clank merely smiled, a grin that didn’t extend beyond his mouth. Ratchet could tell his friend a million different ways that robots and organics were really not so different, but Clank had to understand this idea in his own way. His best friend was the smartest person he knew, artificial or not. Ratchet just had to hope that he would come to the right answer eventually.

The Lombax jumped to his feet, a wide grin crossing his feline features as a new idea occurred to him. “Hey, I think they’ve got an arcade around here. I’ve been practicing Space Rebels, and I’m pretty sure your high score is toast.”

The robot tilted his head at this change of tone, his smile angling into the closest thing Clank had ever come to a smirk. “Is that so? Well, as the young people say, bring it on.”

Ratchet laughed, his hands mimicking guns as he pretended to blast away at some unseen target. “Prepare to be blown away by my…sick skills!” He felt so old right now. He just hoped no one else was watching. The imaginary enemy obliterated, he crossed his arms in the closest rendition of a hip teenager he could muster. “Yo!”

Clank giggled his signature laugh and dropped to his feet to follow in close pursuit when Ratchet took off in a light jog. As long as he could still hear that sound, he didn’t need to fear anything that might happen in the future. As long as he had his best pal, there was nothing that could really hurt him.


	23. Beyond a Shadow of a Doubt

It was only a few additional days of space travel before they had arrived on Kerwan to pick up the Phoenix, which Ratchet had the immense pleasure of piloting the remaining four days to Zeta-13. It was just beyond their destination’s exosphere that they shed the excess member of the crew, leaving Captain Qwark behind as the remaining three members of the team boarded Aphelion for their newest mission. At his indignation at not being needed, Ophelia insisted that someone had to stay behind to look for more holofilms to watch upon their return.

Apparently she had really enjoyed the one she and Qwark had watched back on Rilgar. Ratchet assumed this was only because she had nothing else with which to compare it. As expected, her suggestion had pleased the superhero to no end. And to think, the Lombax’s own response to the man’s displeasure would have been, “Tough. Deal with it.”

The Lombax, robot, and Virditian trio were currently in orbit over Zeta-13, a pockmarked planet with not a single moon to call its own. The majority of planets weren’t inhabited, but the knowledge that this one hadn’t started out that way made it a very sad sight indeed.

“This planet has a very large orbit that takes nearly 400 standard years to complete,” began Clank’s description of the planet below them. “That explains how it could have been part of the N’Dean Empire, but was out of range for the years when the black hole was at its strongest. The planet has been left uninhabited for the past few millennia ever since it lost its moons, most assuredly from passing by the black hole during its weakening stages. These moons used to protect the planet whenever it passed through the Charus asteroid field situated in its path of orbit, but without them…”

“I get it.” It was all cause and effect. And out here, in the frigid vacuum of space, the effects were often fatal. Ratchet turned to the third member of their team. “Do you think you’ll remember where to go, Ophelia?”

The woman was staring with crossed arms at the planet below, the same solemn expression adorning her face that she had borne for the last hour of their trip. “I think so. Once I see the place again, I’m sure it’ll all come back to me.” At last, her mouth formed a more familiar grin, and she leaned forward in her seat to rest her arms on the dashboard. “It’ll sure be fun to go on a real mission with you guys. We haven’t gotten to do anything exciting since Myrtle.”

Ratchet let a single chuckle escape him. “Yeah, we’ll see soon enough if fun’s the right word for it. Just stay outta trouble, okay?”

“I will if you do. And thanks for loaning me this Combustor,” she held the weapon in question at the ready, extending her arm to aim at some invisible foe situated outside the ship’s windscreen. “If anyone messes with us, I’ll shoot them in the face!”

Any apprehension he had at giving Ophelia a weapon had yet to be assuaged.

“We should land the ship right over there, I believe,” Clank pointed to a spot on the planet’s southern hemisphere, where a mass of purple clouds was hovering.

“Right.”

“And please be careful. This planet is heavily comprised of Volocus oil, which was brought to the planet’s surface due to the frequent meteor strikes. It has a low boiling point and is easily evaporated into-”

“Yeah, I’ve landed a ship a thousand times, Clank. I could do it with my eyes closed.”

“Yes, but it is advisable that you do not.”

Ratchet bared his teeth in a grin. “Do you dare me to try?”

The robot frowned, his eyelids drawing low in lack of amusement. “Ratchet…”

The Lombax laughed. “I got this, really! I mean, what could go wrong?” His chuckling subsided when the cockpit went dark as an oncoming cloud closed in on them from all sides. It was not the lack of light that cut off his earlier amusement, however, but the noticeable decrease in Aphelion’s speed.

“Uh, Clank, this is one thick cloud.”

“Oh, rats.” Ophelia was biting her lower lip. “I forgot to tell you guys…”

The robot nodded in agreement with the woman’s unspoken warning, his optics tilting in concern. “Yes, this planet has a tendency to form clouds of pure oil. Which also means-”

Ratchet’s attention jerked to the left when a bright flash of light caught his eye. “We’re on fire, Clank! Why don’t I ever listen to you _before_ we end up in mortal danger?”

“I do not know, Ratchet,” was all the robot said.

Within moments, the entire ship was enveloped in white hot flames. As sweat began to form on his brow, Ratchet punched a button on Aphelion’s dashboard, and a second later, a foamy repellant replaced the flames in such a sudden fashion, it was akin to one bursting a goose down pillow.

“That’s better.” The Lombax breathed out a sigh and slunk lower into his seat. Any relief was short-lived when they shot forward again once the source of their decreased speed had been fully removed.

“Crap!” Ratchet pulled back on the yoke hard as foam flew off the windscreen, revealing rocky ground below that was growing in detail far too quickly. He righted Aphelion just in time, and they came to a skidding halt on a flat, moss-covered hill, the three of them thrown forward with the impact of their landing.

Ratchet lay with his arms flopped over the dashboard. “Maybe I’m not that good at landing, after all. …Clank? Ophelia? Are you guys all right?” He looked over to find the little robot flipped upside down and wedged between the seat and the dashboard.

“I believe I am undamaged, though I am in need of assistance,” Clank said, kicking his short legs in a feeble effort to right himself.

“I don’t think I’m dead, at least,” was Ophelia’s input.

The Lombax took no delay in tugging his friend loose. Clank plopped back down into his seat and gave his head a good shake. “Thank you, Ratchet. Though, frankly,” the robot blinked, his eyes narrowing in contemplation, “I must say, I am shocked at how filthy the ship is. Were you aware that there is a half-eaten sandwich under the seat?”

Ratchet swallowed back a gag. “No, and I wish I wasn’t _now_.” He gestured outside. “Let’s…take a look at Aphelion, then, we can get going.”

“What kind of sandwich is it?” Ophelia asked, rubbing at her head and wincing. When Clank attempted to answer, the Lombax silenced him with a mere shake of the head.

The group climbed out of the ship, and Ratchet stopped to put his fists to his waist as he studied the blackened streaks covering Aphelion’s sad form. He sighed. “I just got her repainted.”

“Um, you guys,” Ophelia pointed skyward, “I think somebody else is here. A whole lot of somebodies.”

Ratchet’s gaze followed her own, his eyes going wide as a shadow passed over them, that of a space pirate barge. Though it moved slowly, the very air itself seemed to vibrate with its weight. A moment later, it passed beyond a wall of tall trees with wispy foliage and was gone.

Clank squinted one optic, a hand to his chin. “I did not expect to see space pirates all the way out here, but I suppose Zeta-13’s oil marshes are an ideal place for robots.” He lifted one foot, twisting his ankle from side to side. “My joints have been feeling rather stiff lately.”

“I think you’ll have to wait until we get back to the Phoenix for an oil bath, buddy. Hopefully we can just stay out of their way.” Ratchet pulled his wrench free. “And they’d better stay out of ours. Which way, Ophelia?” He paused. “Ophelia?”

When he looked over, her hands were clenched, and her expression had darkened. “Those space pirates don’t have any right to be here. This is still N’Dean territory!”

“We don’t have the time or the resources to deal with them right now. If you want us to believe your…story about the black hole, then you’re gonna have to show us the proof. You got that?”

The woman huffed, though her fists loosened at her sides. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right. Come on.”

The oil marsh was a truly unpleasant place. The smell of oil was so thick, it made breathing difficult and made it feel as if the odor itself clung to Ratchet’s fur just as the humidity plastered his clothes to his body. As they made their way over jagged rocks and pushed through thick vegetation, they encountered numerous craters, some old and already filled in with oil from below ground and rimmed with mossy plant life that grew over everything as if infectious, the trees included. Once, they came upon a massive crater that had been created rather recently, for the land around it was still scorched and lifeless.

The group slowed their pace when a pair of rough voices drifted through the undergrowth. Peeking through the leathery leaves of some kind of swamp fern, Ratchet and Ophelia caught two space pirates striding by.

“We been patrollin’ this jungle for eight hours straight. When’s it gonna be _our_ turn to visit the oil ‘ot springs, eh? Keel’aul Jake an’ ‘is men got off duty hours ago. Don’t seem fair.”

“Enough’a yer complainin’. Yer jus’ a lazy oaf. Admit it!”

The shorter pirate stopped in his tracks at this accusation, arms akimbo. “That jus’ ain’t so! I thought this could be like that trip we took to Pokitaru. Great bondin’ time, it was. We should def’nitely try more o’ those trust exercises. What _ye_ call laziness is what _I_ call principles!”

“Principles agin doin’ anythin’ but drinkin’ grog an’ nappin’, it seems. Har!” The second pirate threw his head back in a throaty cackle. “Well, if’n it makes ye feel any better, we’ve got jus’ one more day on this blasted dust ‘eap, and then it’s off to Odaro. I ‘ear there’s an ‘ole city made o’ pure gold. No one’s e’er found it, but _we_ will. Once we burn the jungle to the ground!”

The first pirate scratched at a rusty spot on his jaw with one hooked hand. “An’ ‘ow we gonna do that?”

The other snarled and whacked his comrade over the head. “Don’t ya listen to nothin’? Whatta ye think we’ve been collectin’ all this oil for, ye bloomin’ idjit?”

“What’s oil an’ fire got’s to do wif each other?” The smaller pirate lifted his arms in front of his face when the other raised his fist again. “‘Ey, I don’t ‘preciate this sort o’ treatment. Respect my rights!”

His companion rolled his remaining red eye in its socket. “Arr, yer bloody ‘opeless!” he said and turned to stomp away.

“At least _I_ can express m’ feelin’s in a more constructive manner!” The remaining pirate continued to watch his comrade’s retreating form, poised tall in some kind of expectation. When the other did not turn back, he kicked the ground with one foot and trudged off after him, his joints creaking even at so slow a gait.

Once they were out of sight, Ratchet glanced over his shoulder at the robot perched on his back. “You hear that, Clank? It sounds like we got here just in time.”

“This is most distressing. Odaro is not heavily populated, but thousands of inhabitants will lose their lives if we do not act quickly. We must find the pirates’ pumping station as quickly as possible.” There was a pause, followed by a single question, “Have you seen Ophelia?”

Ratchet caught himself in a swear just before a quick scan of their surroundings allowed him to locate her bright red mane already twenty feet ahead of them. The Lombax dashed after her, but by the time he caught up with their wayward comrade, she already had the shorter of the two pirates pinned beneath her foot.

“You lousy piece of scrap!” She pressed her blaster harder against his face. “Tell me where your leader is, and I’ll tear him limb from limb!”

“Now, now, Ophelia. Let’s take this one pirate at a time. If anyone’s gonna get dismembered, it’s _this_ guy.” Ratchet directed a toothy smirk at the pirate in question once his presence became known.

The robot groaned from where he lay on the ground. “Why’s everyone pickin’ on me today?” he asked no one in particular, rubbing his head with his good hand. His optics grew twice as wide when Clank dropped down from the Lombax’s back. “Wh-what sort o’ madness is this? Where’d _ye_ come from?”

“Who’s got a screwdriver?” Ophelia yawned, the nonchalance in her words offset by the wicked smirk adorning her face.

The pirate’s optics widened, and he let out a miserable shriek, his whole body shivering with such fervor, it was a wonder he didn’t lose any screws in the process. “I surrender! Don’ shoot me! I ain’t never ‘urt another soul in me life, I swear! I’m the lousiest escuse for a pirate there ever were! Jus’ ask anyone!”

“The sooner you talk, the sooner we get this over with,” the Lombax said, smacking his wrench against his open palm.

When the space pirate continued to quiver on the ground, Clank stepped closer. “Please, I assure you, we do not wish you any harm. We only seek information. Where is your pumping station?”

The pirate scratched at his chin. “Wait a blinkin’ minute, yer after our oil, ain’t ya? Well, I ain’t tellin’ ya nothin’.” He looked away, both optics squeezed shut as if he believed his assailants would vanish from existence, just so long as he couldn’t see them.

Ratchet frowned. “I think this guy’s got a couple of screws loose, Clank. If he doesn’t talk soon, I think we’ll have to put him out of his misery.”

As expected, this was just the encouragement their prisoner needed. “It’s…it’s in the middle o’ the big lake, I think! Jus’ leave me alone! I ain’t done nothin’ to deserve this! I’m jus’ a lost soul, I is!” With that, the pirate burst into pitiful sobbing.

“Hey, I know where that is,” Ophelia said. “Should we finish him off?” Her words were almost drowned out when the pirate wailed even louder than ever.

“Nah, this guy’s pathetic, even for a pirate.” Ratchet would have normally been more than happy to blast some space pirate scum, but considering the whole mess with Clank and the robot graveyard they had so recently visited, it somehow seemed…more distasteful than usual. “Plus,” he added, “a blaster shot might bring about unwanted attention.”

“Aww, fine.” Ophelia sighed, but released the weeping robot, nonetheless. When he attempted to stand, she pushed him over again, and he crashed to the ground in a clatter of metal. Even though no hindrance remained to keep him from rising once more, he continued to lie on his stomach with his arms covering his face. “Follow me!”

Ratchet pulled Clank up by the arm, returning him to his harness before running along after their guide as she darted ahead into the underbrush. Even though space pirates were not part of the original plan, he could only hope that this would serve as no more than a temporary detour. After all, he was good at destroying stuff. Destroy the pump, reach the archives, and return to the real danger at hand. Simple? Sure, whatever.

While a single, unassuming fuel pump was no match for a Lombax and his advanced weaponry, not to mention a puffy-haired psychopath, a few hundred space pirates was above their current resources to handle at the moment. As such, they steered clear of any pirates they encountered.

Within fifteen minutes’ time, Ratchet’s ears twitched at a dull hum that droned along at a slow and lazy frequency. It grew louder with their approach, as did a new sound. A voice, and a familiar one, at that.

“Thar once were a -hic- drunken narwhal, who sailed the seven -hic- seas, but -hic- ‘e wasn’t much good for plund’rin’, ‘cuz ‘e ‘adn’t -hic- got no -hic- knees!”, came a high, slurring voice so out of tune, one had to wonder if it was purposeful.

The trees cleared away to make room for several massive craters that merged together to form a sprawling lake of oil. Partially submerged some distance from shore stood a large, towering machine, four thick, transparent pipes like legs jutting down into the oil that were colored black with the substance inside. A fifth hose rose from the top and slithered down into the ooze like a water snake going for a swim, only to rise back to the surface to connect to a set of four massive tanks set amidst a crescent of trees by the lake shore. And not twenty feet from the Lombax, robot, and Virditian trio, by the banks of the oil lake, was the first mate of Captain Slag, Rusty Pete.

The scrawny pirate wobbled where he sat, a bottle of grog clutched in one hand. His lazy, half-lidded optics passed over the trio several times before registering their presence.

Pete jumped to his feet in a graceless jump that nearly sent him reeling onto his face before a pinwheeling of arms righted himself. “If it ‘tisn’t -hic- the ones who defeated -hic- me ol’ Cap’n all those years ago, Rathead and Clink.” He swayed on his feet, then swiped an object off the ground and set it on his head. “How d’ya like -hic- me new cap’n hat, eh? ‘Bout time I got promoted, ye slimy, eh…swine!”

Ratchet couldn’t prevent a laugh from escaping him at the sorry sight. “There’s no way anyone made _you_ captain!”

“Whatta ya sayin’? Ya -hic- think I’m lyin’? ‘As good, honest Pete -hic- ever tol’ ye a fib in ‘is -hic- life?”

“Many times, actually,” Clank said.

The gangly pirate reeled back, but it was impossible to tell if it was due to Clank’s words or a particularly loud hiccup. “Wha’? I don’ -hic- remember any o’ that! Gimme dates and -hic- times!” Pete’s unsteady gaze settled on Ophelia, who already had her blaster aimed right between his eyes. His precarious position seemed to have gone unnoticed when he whistled. “Oooh, an’ who’s this ‘ere –hic’ perty lady? I always did like -hic- red’eads….”

Ophelia visibly grimaced. “Can I kill him, Ratchet?”

The Lombax shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

“What’s this insolence, Pete! Playin’ Cap’n again, are we?”

They stiffened at the sound of a rough voice and turned at the lumbering approach of a far larger pirate, the portly Captain Slag himself. His first mate quivered under his captain’s venomous gaze. In a desperate hope for mercy, he removed the pilfered hat from his head and held it out.

Slag snatched the hat away and laid it firmly atop his own head. “I shoulda known First Mate ‘Preciation Day would go to yer ‘ead. Ya know what ‘appens to those caught impersonatin’ the Cap’n?”

“I’m sorry, Cap’n! I blame -hic- it on me low self-esteem, an’ by extension, your -hic- ‘abit o’ providin’ negative reinforcement.”

The pirate captain snarled and shoved Pete aside, his first mate landing on the ground in a graceless heap. He wiped the palms of his hands together as a wicked grin spread across his metal face. “Fancy seein’ you boys ‘ere. Either ya got an un’ealthy fascination with death, or yer jus’ plain stupid.”

“Captain Slag,” Ratchet began, “is your new body…shorter than the old one?” A quick glance over told him Ophelia was no longer present. Now why wasn’t he surprised?

“‘Tis jus’ -hic- one leg that’s -hic- shorter’n the other,” Rusty Pete said after picking himself off the ground and brushing himself off. “We typically ‘ope -hic- no one no’ices.”

“Can it, Pete!” The Captain pushed the smaller robot down once more with one thrust of his thick arm. “Yer a funny one, ain’t ye?” The larger robot stalked forward, wagging a finger. “Ye’ll make an even funnier throw rug once I’m through with ya. So ya came t’ put a stop to me plans again, din’t ya?”

Ratchet hefted his weapon in his hands. “I live for making you look like a fool to your crew. Captain.”

Captain Slag’s optics narrowed. “Tough words fer a furball and ‘is tin can. When I’m through with ye, there won’ be three recognizable pieces between the both o’ ya.”

The Lombax refused to break eye contact. “You and your crew won’t be setting so much as a peg leg on Odaro. Count on it.”

“Oh, that’s where yer dead wrong, matey.” Captain Slag pulled out a massive blunderbuss and cocked it. “Me ol’ mum taught me to never make the same mistake twice. A good woman, she was. She made an even better pistol.”

Ratchet jumped to the side when Slag fired first, a flash of heat flaring on his right side as the massive shot passed him by. He landed in the dirt and rolled back onto his feet a moment later. Steadying himself, Ratchet shot off a wave of Buzz Blades. They veered in Captain Slag’s direction in an arc, only to bounce off the blunderbuss he raised to block them, scattering harmlessly in all directions.

“Ah-har, yer gonna ‘ave to do better’n that, ya mangy rat!” Slag fired off one massive shot after another with wild abandonment. “I ain’t gonna stand down ‘til yer a rug in me cap’n’s cabin an’ yer friend’s been melted down to make me a new belt buckle! Pete, what’s takin’ ye so long!”

“Aye aye, Cap’n!” came Pete’s voice. Ratchet had just enough time to glance back over his shoulder as the scrawny pirate came pouncing out of the trees, sword drawn. Before the Lombax could react, Clank pulled his friend’s wrench free and whacked their assailant over the head with all his might.

Ratchet staggered away, heart hammering in his chest, as Rusty Pete crumpled to the ground, groaning and sparking where he had fallen. “Woah! Nice one, Clank!”

“I do my best,” the little robot said, his voice flat. Honestly, he sounded even more shocked than Ratchet was.

The pirate captain slapped a hand to his forehead with a growl. “Arr, yer utterly useless, Pete!”

Ratchet grinned. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Captain. Not that cheating’s gonna help you anyway.” Without warning, he fired off a rocket from his Negotiator. Slag ducked to the left, the projectile zipping just over his shoulder.

The battle continued with little ground being gained on either side. By now, the Lombax and pirate captain had succeeded only in sidestepping the other, with a hole burned into Ratchet’s sleeve and a few new scratches added to the pirate’s metal body to provide evidence any skirmish had even taken place. Though the robot captain hardly looked any worse for wear, Ratchet was already panting for breath after dodging a few massive shots too many from the enemy’s blunderbuss. This guy had not just been rebuilt; he was tougher than the Lombax remembered.

And if there was one area in which robots always held an advantage over their organic counterparts, it was the fact that they never got tired…and their focus never wavered.

A yell of “Ratchet!” was the only warning the Lombax had before he was hit over the head with one of Pete’s half-empty bottles of grog. The whole world spun, his vision wavering between black and a blur of colors, and he crumpled to the ground. Through the haze, he could hear Slag’s cackle, could feel his first mate tear Clank from his harness and toss him aside.

_Wh-what just happened!_

Ratchet attempted to push himself up, only to groan and fall back down as the pain in his head intensified, the ground beneath him shaking as Slag took several fateful steps forward.

_I-I thought… Man, some hero I am._

He heard a click as Slag’s blunderbuss was cocked inches from his face.

_Clank. Don’t…don’t hurt Clank._

“Hey, fatso! Lookie here!”

A voice pierced through the stuffing clouding Ratchet’s mind, a voice that had never before been so welcome. The Lombax forced one eye open, squinting as he tried to make out the form of Ophelia standing by the lake shore directly in front of him. A flicker of flame extending from the end of the device in her hands told him that she was holding his Pyrocitor out over the surface of the lake. Now when had she managed to snatch _that_ from him?

Honestly, he had never before been so happy to get pickpocketed.

The space pirate’s eyes widened, and his entire massive body went stiff. “Whatta ya think yer doin’? One spark, an’ the whole lake’ll blow into the stratosphere!”

“Hey, that’s a good idea! Thanks for the suggestion!” Through the haze that had enveloped his vision, he could just make out her smirk.

And then everything happened at once.

Ophelia blasted a stream of flame from the Pyrocitor, igniting the surface of the lake and creating a wall of fire that spread outward as if consumed by a fever. When the flames reached the pumping station, it was all over.

Despite the shockwave that washed over the prone Lombax, sending both Ophelia and Rusty Pete to the ground, followed by a second explosion as the tanks the pumping station was connected to blew next, the pirate captain remained standing. There was a moment of stunned silence as the portly robot surveyed the destruction, the entire lake now a field of ravenous flame and the station and oil tanks nothing more than a smoking mess. Once it had appeared that the situation had finally sunk in, Slag began to spit enraged profanities, most of which were directed at the woman still attempting to pick herself off the ground.

“That does it, missy! You wanna play with fire, I’m more’n ‘appy to oblige! Lesse ‘ow well ye burn!”

Dropping his blunderbuss, Slag rushed forward with a growl of fury, arms outstretched and more than ready to crush the life from her. Just as his shadow fell over Ophelia’s wide-eyed form, Clank jumped in front of the massive pirate captain, sending Slag tripping over the much smaller robot. The portly robot made a choked grunt of surprise as he tumbled into the roiling lake of fire with an ungainly splash. His final profanity-laced curse was cut off halfway through as he was lost beneath the flaming oil.

With the scourge of space, hopefully lost for good, a wailing Rusty Pete made a stumbling sprint for the lake shore, where he fell to his knees and screamed with his spindly arms raised to the heavens in the most melodramatic way possible, “Cap’n, noooooo! By the barnacled beard o’ -hic- Poseidon, why do they -hic- gotta die so young? Whyyyyyyy!”

As Pete proceeded to sob into his hands, Clank stood back up and brushed himself off. “Oh dear, we certainly have a way of upsetting people.” He chuckled, his laugh weary, but the humor no less genuine.

Reaching out, Ophelia dragged the tiny robot closer for a tight embrace. “Oh, Clank, you saved me, you brave little robot, you!”

Ratchet forced himself into a sitting position and rubbed at his still throbbing noggin. “Hey, don’t forget there’s still a Lombax here who needs to say some thank-you’s.”

“Oh, right, Ratchet!” Ophelia ran over to kneel by the Lombax, Clank still in her arms. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’ll be all right.” He fingered a growing bump on the back of his head and winced. “We better get out of here before our little…inferno draws any more attention.” He eyed Rusty Pete, who had since curled up into a ball, arms hugged tightly about himself as he continued to weep softly.

“Right. Oh, and you probably want your Pyrocitor back, don’t you?”

Ratchet attempted to stand, only for a swirling of scenery to overtake him in his dizziness. Ophelia pulled one of the Lombax’s arms over her shoulder to steady him.

“Nah, keep it for now. You’re clearly a natural with that thing.”

* * *

As they picked their way carefully through the thick foliage, towering structures began to protrude from the canopy of trees ahead of them. They appeared to be made of stone, and yet, their primitive materials and obvious age could not diminish the intricate detail of the terraced buildings. How many people used to live here and how many lives were lost when their moons were ripped away? Of all the dark, hostile places they had been, abandoned cities were always the worst.

It wasn’t much longer before the group had reached the city ruins, their paces as brisk as Ratchet’s faltering footsteps would allow in order to put as much distance between themselves and the pirates as possible. Here, the sounds of wildlife returned, the droning buzz of insects reminding Ratchet of just how hot and cloying the air here was, even if the cool purple of the clouds above would not suggest it.

“Clank, Ophelia, I really hope you both know, that was quick thinking back there with Slag’s lackey and with…Slag himself. You guys really saved my skin. Thanks.”

The little robot looked up from the Lombax’s side. “Why, that is what friends do. But you are welcome.”

The Virditian laughed in her throat. “Guess I’m a pretty useful part of the team, after all. Aren’t I?” She nudged him in the side with her elbow, stepping aside to see if he could stand on his own.

Ratchet wavered, but ultimately remained upright. “Okay, Ophelia, I guess you have a point. Uh…” He shrugged. “Welcome to the team, I guess.”

“Ha! I knew you’d finally see my side of things!” She twirled in place. “Oh, this is so exciting! I’ve never been part of a team before! You won’t regret this! Now come on! I think I’m remembering where to go.”

Towering stone structures were lined up on either side of them, staring down at the trio with black empty windows. It looked a lot cooler inside, but based on the kinds of things that typically lurked in the dark, Ratchet thought he’d take his chances with heatstroke. Of course, he wouldn’t exactly have much of a choice once they reached the research facility.

“I was gonna ask why the pirates didn’t set up camp inside the city,” the Lombax began, pausing when his eyes focused on a shape high up on one of the towers, beneath the arch of a window where the shadows were stronger, “but I think I know why.”

“Oh, pirates are just superstitious dummies,” Ophelia said, striding along at a bouncing sort of pace far more suitable for a day at the carnival than a trek through a ghost town. “I bet they think this place is haunted.” She threw her head back in a sudden laugh, a laugh at which Ratchet hoped no one saw him jump, the sound echoing off the tall buildings surrounding them in a decidedly eerie manner. “When I was last here with Petaer, we didn’t see so much as a ghost. Or a shadow person. Hey, Ratchet, you ever wake up in the middle of the night, and you think you see a dark shape in the corner of your room? Of course, it’s always been my imagination, but that would sure be freaky if it really _was_ a visitor from beyond.”

Ratchet’s only response was a shake of the head and a quickening of his pace.

“It is astounding how one event can affect the lives of trillions,” Clank began. “A single black hole devastated countless planets, and they were powerless to stop it. Even with our technological advances, I have to wonder how equipped we would be in preventing another similar incident should it happen again in our modern age.”

When Ratchet dared look again, the shape was gone.

His newest jumpscare came in the form of Ophelia’s squeal when she darted off towards one building in particular, its sleek shape and straight edges standing in stark contrast to the more natural structures that surrounded it. On either side of the pathway leading up to its entrance were overgrown and ragged bushes that had clearly not been manicured for ages. One of them had taken the liberty of pulling up several sections of the walkway with its roots.

“Ooh, here it is! This is it! This is the research facility!” The Virditain jumped up and down several times before her discovery, pointing at what remained of the inscription over the entryway.

Clank tilted his head as he studied the decaying text. “Institute of…Anomalous Studies, if I am not mistaken.”

“You can seriously read that?” Ratchet asked, doubling his pace in an effort to rejoin their guide.

“Why, of course. I am versed in nearly 1000 languages, and this appears to be an early variation of the Aylesian dialect. This is the most accurate translation I could come up with.”

“You really _are_ a nerd.” Ratchet stopped beside Ophelia and glanced over at the crooked doorway, as unwelcoming as if it had been barred and sealed shut behind blast-proof titanium. “So, are you _certain_ this place is even…structurally sound?” He placed his hands on his waist. “I don’t know…this place looks pretty sketchy to me.”

“Pfft! Don’t tell me you’re scared, Mr. Fluffy Pants!” Ophelia slapped a hand on his shoulder. “What did I already tell you about the whole shadow person thing?”

“That…they don’t exist?”

“No!” She laughed. “They’re real, all right. They’re just pretty elusive. Like clowns.”

Ratchet mouthed her final word as she headed up the steps to the gaping maw that existed in place of a door. Forcing reluctant feet onward, he stopped to stand just behind Ophelia, who was already poking her head inside and looking this way and that.

“Is the coast clear?” he asked. His voice came out in a squeak, and he coughed. It wasn’t fear. Just phlegm.

Ratchet yelped and retreated back a step when Ophelia spun around, wriggling her fingers over her head. “Oooh, I saw a ghost, Ratchet! Oh, right, it was just my shadow!” She snorted. “Come on!” With that, she crossed the threshold and was lost to the darkness beyond.

“Ratchet,” Clank began when the Lombax failed to budge, “do not tell me you are…nervous.”

“No, it’s not…really…” The Lombax took a few steps forward and peeked inside. “Okay, yeah, I’m kind of creeped out. I guess I’m just a little…traumatized since we almost got eaten by a killer plant…in a place about as dark as this…yeah...” He picked up a rock and threw it inside, swallowing at the lump that formed in his throat at the unnaturally long echo that came in reply. “Okay, Clank, this place _definitely_ freaks me out. Call it Lombax intuition.”

“You _did_ seem rather relieved when Captain Qwark installed a night light in the Phoenix crew’s quarters. I did not realize the incident on…Myrtle affected you so much.”

“Clank, you’re a robot. You can see in the dark. I can’t.”

“You also asked me to accompany you to the bathroom.”

“Okay, that was one time, and I didn’t technically _ask_ you. I ran into you in the hallway, and you came with me. I just happened to stop at the bathroom along the way.”

“Ratchet, you said, and I quote, ‘Do you mind walking me to the bathroom?’ You know I keep a record of everything that was said for the last month. I can play it back for you if you do not remember.”

“Hey, who was throwing rocks?” came Ophelia’s reverberating voice from inside.

Ratchet’s shoulders sagged. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The glowing cloud of nanorobots that Ratchet deployed even before setting foot inside the facility proved to be an effective means of lighting the space around them, though they did little to prevent the chill that crawled down Ratchet’s spine upon entering. It helped that Clank had been returned to the Lombax’s back, as the little robot always managed to provide a reassuring weight in uncertain situations.

The first thing they were met with was a long-abandoned reception desk, rotted papers in an unkempt pile adorning its surface beneath a thick layer of dust. The chair set behind it was turned at just enough of an angle, it appeared to still be waiting for its former occupant to return.

It was indeed much cooler in here than outside, and it wasn’t more than ten minutes before Ratchet longed for the sticky humidity of before. At least the heat didn’t make him think of a crypt. Low temperatures were always a staple of any good horror movie. Since when did gruesome murders take place on warm, sunny beaches?

Except for _Killer Sands from Beyond_. Why’d he watch that with the lights off?

“Do you remember where to go?” Ratchet asked as Ophelia looked down one endless hallway after another.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Why are _you_?”

“Because this looks like a place where killer clowns would congregate. And yes, I _do_ remember where to go, so stop your worrying!”

“Oh, don’t tell me _you’re_ getting nervous now?” Ratchet’s tail was flicking from side to side. Why did he suddenly feel even more uneasy now that Ophelia had lost her nerve?

“I forgot that the main archive is in the basement. Now hush! I think clowns have excellent hearing.”

“Well, if they live somewhere like _this_ , they probably hunt using echolocation,” was the Lombax’s response.

Now why had he said that?

Fifteen minutes, and several wrong turns, later, Ophelia had, unfortunately, located the door to the basement. Or stumbled upon it, if the wrong turns were any indication. The door shrieked on rusty hinges when she pushed it open, stirring up a cloud of dust that caused both organic members of the team to cough. Covering his mouth, eyes watering from the dust particles now drifting about them, Ratchet held his blaster at the ready in case anything unsavory emerged from the other side. The door remained locked in place even once they had passed through, and he paused for a few moments on the other side to ponder if attempting to close it again would be more likely to keep whatever he had seen outside from following them or prevent them from getting out later. He chose to leave it open.

Needless to say, they descended the stairs in short, quick steps, the Lombax feeling most grateful that he had his companion to keep an eye on whatever went on behind him. His pace faltered just once when he reached the basement’s second sublevel. The door was closed, but a dark, sticky substance covered the narrow window above the rusted doorknob.

They made it to the third sublevel a few minutes later. This door proved more difficult to open, and it only flung inward when he aided Ophelia with a few shoves of his shoulder. Ratchet froze when paper rustled to the ground from the table nearby. Once he had confirmed the identity of the noise, he spared a scowl at the sheets of paper littering the floor and marched on. Here, doors, some open, some not, lined the wall to their right, the wall to their left broken only by file cabinets and a crooked cork board with a few notes still pinned to it that were curling at the edges.

He paused once more when the light from his nanobots fell upon a dark puddle on the floor just as something wet struck his ear. “Ophelia, slow down a sec!” Ratchet stepped aside, hand lifting to wipe away the liquid rolling down his ear as he inspected the liquid at his feet.

“What is it, Ratchet?” Clank asked as his comrade’s gaze lifted to the ceiling, where a thin pipeline was running across the room. A rusted hole in the pipe’s side was leaking some kind of dark substance, whose identity was revealed when he inhaled through his nose. The cloying smell of oil, no different from the lake Ophelia had so delicately lit ablaze.

“Nothing. False alarm.” He wiped his glove on his pants and proceeded to follow the Virditian’s lead.

Their footsteps echoed on the hard floor and reverberated back in such a manner that it almost sounded as if they being followed. Logic told him that, had this been the case, Clank would have told him. Of course, logic was rarely very comforting.

They entered a room at the back, whose lock fell to pieces at a single turn of the knob. It was a small, cramped space, lined from floor to ceiling with cabinets and a single window looking out into the main room. A lone computer sat on a desk in the middle.

“Here it is! This is the room where they kept all of their research!” Ophelia said, fists planted firmly on her waist. “Now you guys _have_ to believe me!”

“We’ll see about that.” Ratchet brushed the cobwebs away with a grimace and opened the cabinet closest to him. He pulled out a thick, square cassette and showed it to Clank when the little robot dropped down at his side.

“Backup tapes,” his friend confirmed with a nod.

“Oh, don’t worry about those. The files Petaer and I were looking at were in these big binders. I’m sure I can find the one I need again.” Ophelia proceeded to inspect the contents of the desk, while Clank opened a cabinet near the floor and peered inside.

“I am interested in taking back as much data as we can.” The little robot had to right himself when he leaned so far forward that he almost fell inside. “Historical records would be useful, as well, provided we can find any.”

“I found the binder!” Ophelia emerged from the bottom drawer of the computer desk, dust clinging to her hair, with a large binder hugged to her chest. “Right at the top of the pile where we left it!”

“That’s great, Ophelia.” Ratchet slapped a spider crawling up his arm. “Uh, Clank, maybe we should just head back. I mean, how is anything still going to be readable after all these years?”

“They have excellent restoration software available these days. As for which tapes will provide us with the additional information we need, perhaps the computer has a database that can point us in the right direction. A little help, please.”

Ratchet picked Clank up and set him on the desk so that he could better inspect the computer. “I really don’t think that thing’s going to work.”

Ophelia shrugged. “Hey, the more information you guys get, the better. The harder it’ll be for you to refute my cold, hard facts!”

Ratchet rolled his eyes.

Clank brushed dust and grime from the machine’s surface, blinking when some of it landed on his optics. “Ancient hard drives consisted of physical indentations read by a laser. Assuming it is still intact within its housing, and I have no reason to believe that it is not, I might still be able to read it.”

“Right…” The Lombax glanced out the window. Nothing could be seen beyond a few inches through its clouded surface. In one corner of the glass was the black, oily substance he had noticed earlier.

By now, Clank had removed the computer’s outer casing and was setting it down beside the monitor. “I do not possess a port that is an exact match, but I will just have to make due.” With a few quick yanks, he freed a short ribbon cable and plugged it into a compartment in his chest. “All that is required is power. A spark from your Tesla Claw should do nicely.”

“You sure this won’t hurt you?”

“My security safeguards will prevent any feedback beyond a certain voltage. I will be perfectly safe.”

Ratchet lifted the weapon before him, once more casting a weary eye outside. “If you say so. But if I notice anything strange, I’m unplugging you.” Applying a quick jolt to the area of the computer’s motherboard that Clank had specified, he went stiff when he caught movement through the window.

“Success. The computer is booting up…bypassing security with administrator password…network is initiating…still initiating… I am now connecting to the database. It should only take me a minute or two to download and process the computer’s records.” Clank giggled. “I had forgotten how much this tickles.”

“I _swear_ there’s something out there!” Ratchet’s tail was flicking from side to side, eyes darting this way and that as he struggled to make out anything at all amidst the darkness beyond the archive room. “I saw something…fly past the window!”

The little robot turned towards the room’s only window, optics wide open. “What did it look like?”

“I don’t know. I-I didn’t get a good look at it. Ophelia, you _sure_ there was nothing living here the last time you came here?”

Pressing her face to the glass, Ophelia attempted to peer outside with squinted eyes. “No, there was nothing unusual here. Nothing at all. Are you sure you’re not just imagining things?”

Ratchet groaned and turned back to his friend. “Clank, do you know what sort of things live on this planet?”

Clank shook his head. “I am sorry, but my knowledge about this planet is minimal, though it is possible the change in the ecosystem produced some variations in the planet’s wildlife. Perhaps it is not hostile?”

“Since _when_ is anything not hostile?”

The little robot did not even attempt to answer, but fell silent in favor of studying the window, while Ratchet propped the desk chair under the doorknob. Without thinking, he threw his hand over Ophelia’s mouth, stifling any scream that might have come forth, when a dark, formless shape pressed itself against the other side of the window, as if the shadows themselves were closing in. The door creaked against the weight of something unseen as the first figure outside formed a misty circle of breath against the windowpane.

Ratchet arched his eyebrows in a silent question, to which his friend only gave a slow nod. Clank removed the plug from his torso and dropped to the floor, heading straight for one cabinet in particular. By now, Ophelia had pressed herself into the farthest corner of the room, squeezing herself between two filing cabinets with the binder hugged all the more closely against her chest as if she suspected it would act as a sufficient shield. Ironically enough, her own blaster and stolen Pyrocitor were still hanging forgotten at her waist.

The Lombax chewed on his lower lip as he watched the abomination outside roving against the glass, as if blindly sniffing something out. His eyes darted to Clank when the cabinet gave the slightest squeak upon his careful attempt to open it. His friend looked back, Ratchet nodding in an urgent need to hurry, before the robot reached inside the narrow gap he had made.

The noise had hardly been enough to alert even Ratchet’s sensitive ears, but perhaps it was untold years in the dark that had granted the creature outside hearing beyond even his abilities. Two dim, white eyes popped into existence, one at a time, quivering dots that landed first on the source of the disturbance. Then on Ratchet. He froze under its gaze, his limbs turning to ice while his heart pulsed in his ears.

He gasped, sucking in breath when something touched his tail, but when he looked down, it was only Clank. The little robot held up several tapes he had clutched in one hand before they disappeared into the compartment within his chest.

Ratchet lifted a shaky arm and formed his fist into a thumbs up. Clank stared at it for a moment and returned the gesture with a tilt of his head. Ophelia was the last to respond, but only after she had pried one hand free of the binder.

That settled it.

Ratchet pulled his companion onto his back and readied his Tesla Claw in his hands, while Ophelia drew her blaster with a shaky grip behind him. If that thing, or things, was hostile, he knew what to do.

When he pulled aside the chair and opened the door it had previously been barricading, he was met with a pure blackness even the light of his nanorobots could not penetrate. Rather, they only outlined a tall shape standing immobile in the doorway.

His blood chilled to ice water in his veins, and he stared at the dark void in front of him. He wasn’t about to slip past it, but he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction aggression would earn him, either.

Eventually, the silence grew too much to bear. They had already been spotted, so what point was there in caution anymore? “Clank,” he breathed, “is the other one still at the window?”

“Yes, Ratchet. Along with three more.”

The Lombax took a step backwards. “Are they hostile, you think?”

“I cannot say, but I fear the consequences of remaining here any longer. I detect more in the distance. Soon, we will be overrun.”

“I _swear_ these were not here last time,” came Ophelia’s voice inches behind him.

“Furthermore, I detect an increasing concentration of oil fumes,” the little robot went on. “Ophelia, it would be advisable that you do not activate the Pyrocitor at this time.”

Ratchet gritted his teeth when the shape in the doorway failed to budge. It seemed they didn’t have much choice. The Lombax marched forward, sparking his Tesla Claw several times. The electricity made his fur prickle as it flashed the room with blue light.

The creature retreated the slightest bit. Ratchet sent a few more bolts its way in warning. “Just get out of our way, and we’ll go in peace. Okay? Do we have a deal?”

“Ratchet…”

“I know, buddy.” This time, he activated his weapon for a prolonged period of time, sweeping the sparking bolts of electricity in front of him in a slow arc and creating enough of an opening to allow them to exit the room. He released the trigger, and their circle of light retreated back to the small radius their nanorobots could provide. In the dark, it was impossible to tell just how many creatures surrounded them, but he could hear an oily sort of slithering as they moved in closer, and dim white eyes floated varying distances from the floor, shaky, but unblinking. As he backed his way towards the exit, Ophelia close at his side, the shapes floated after them, but kept their distance to just beyond the light’s edge. Nevertheless, they seemed to be getting closer.

“Our lights are going out, Ratchet, and I do not believe we have any left.”

“No, I don’t think so, either. How about we run for our lives? Sound good to you?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would say that.”

“No arguments there,” came the final agreement from Ophelia.

“Stay close behind me, Ophelia. I’ll clear the way.”

With that, Ratchet bolted for the door, followed closely behind by Ophelia, their feet pounding on the floor. The shapes went wild at the sudden movement, swirling around them like leaves swept up in a gust of wind. Their apprehension of the trio’s dwindling light supply seemed to have subsided, as well, for they swooped in close, grabbing at his arms and ankles. A jolt from his Tesla Claw was sufficient to take care of those in front of him, but pausing to aim his attention backwards would only slow him down.

When one was facing overwhelming odds, there was one way and one way only to secure immediate backup. At least, that’s what the guy at GrummelNet said.

Mr. Zurkon seemed like their best bet to escape alive. As annoying as the homicidal, little robot could be, it had gotten him out of more than a few scrapes in the past.

Mr. Zurkon appeared at the Lombax’s side, gun already blasting with murderous glee. The result was immediate, the shadows falling back in alarm as the small drone zipped around its master. “Hello, stupid shadow thingies! Meet your worst nightmare! Oops, Mr. Zurkon already killed it!”

They burst through the door and began to scramble up the steps seconds later, Ratchet sparking his Tesla Claw as much to clear their path as to provide brief flashes of light to make up for their dwindling supply of nanorobots. He’d hate to run out of power here.

The shadows swirled about, the cacophony of pounding footsteps and crackling electricity and Ophelia’s blaster fire deafening in the stairwell, but none of it compared to the flurry of a hundred unnatural entities, now worked up to a racket like a gale whistling through bare tree branches. In the flashes of illumination provided by his weapon, he caught the creatures swirling overhead, as well as below them the one time he dared peek over the railing. They swarmed in through vents and piled up against the second sublevel door to the point that it was rattling on its hinges in their joint struggle to break free.

“Two floors left to go, you guys! We can’t slow down now-”

The door flew off its hinges, spinning end over end with the force just as Ratchet threw himself to the ground as it swirled overhead. Ophelia was not so lucky, however, and was struck by the door full force. She collapsed to the ground a few feet away, her blaster sliding out of her reach across the floor. The shadows swarmed through the newly made opening, impossibly fast, to encircle them. Icy hands gripped Ratchet from all directions, and any effort on his part or Mr. Zurkon’s to push them back proved futile against the sheer number of them.

“Do not worry, feeble furball!” Mr. Zurkon said. “Even if you die, your memory will live on with Mr. Zurkon! Until he runs out of fuel. Which is probably in a few minutes.”

Ratchet’s Tesla Claw sparked, flickering as its power ran low. “Doesn’t your mouth have an ‘off’ switch or something?”

“Mr. Zurkon has no ‘off’ switch! He is here to provide an endless supply of smack talk at an affordable price!”

“Ratchet!” Ophelia shrieked as shadowy hands grabbed at her hair.

Ratchet yelped when something cold and sharp bit into his ear. “This isn’t working, but I think I know what will! Grab onto something!”

The Lombax pulled out the Tornado Launcher and steadied it before him. How wise it really was to release a tornado in such an enclosed space, he had no idea, but he was out of options, considering their final source of light was just as likely to set them ablaze as their enemies, if the stifling scent of oil pervading the air was anything to go by. Gritting his teeth and hoping against hope that this was not a mistake, he fired a disc over to the corner of the landing opposite them. It spun in place, faster and faster until a vortex began to form above it, the rotating cyclone of pure wind rising higher and higher until it towered over them.

Ophelia reached out for a pipe running up the wall nearest her, while Ratchet wrapped his arms around the nearby railing and held on for dear life, wincing when Mr. Zurkon grabbed onto his ear with his free hand. Lightning sparked from the vortex, the last remaining source of illumination, so thunderous in that enclosed space that the floor beneath them reverberated with it.

The inky black mass of shapes was pulled backwards, and Ratchet was forced to kick or swat a few free that attempted to grab hold of him. Before long, what had previously been a swirling nightmare of insubstantial bodies was replaced with the same lonely emptiness that had met them upon their arrival. Soon after, even the twister had worn itself out and subsided into nothing.

Ratchet released a shuddering breath, as if it was his first in days. The blackness was broken when Ophelia lit a flame on the end of her Pyrocitor to be used as a makeshift torch now that the smell of oil had subsided.

“That was…one of our worst encounters yet, I would have to say,” Ratchet said, ears still ringing with the roar of the twister they had so recently been forced to outlast.

Ophelia lay sprawled a short distance away, her puff of hair somehow looking wilder than ever and her chest heaving. “I’m sorry, you guys. Those things weren’t here last time.” She sat up, wobbling for a moment as she rubbed at one temple with her free hand. “This place was totally empty last time Petaer and I were here.”

“It’s fine, Ophelia.” Ratchet used the railing to pull himself to his feet. “You didn’t know. But from now on, let’s make it a rule that we don’t enter any more abandoned buildings. You know, old research archives. Botany labs. Greenhouses. Just…anything.” He held out a hand and Ophelia took it.

“Sure, sounds good to me.”

“Agreed,” came Clank’s own response.

Mr. Zurkon turned to stare at the now immobile tornado disc. “Mr. Zurkon could have done that, but he believes commanding the forces of nature is cheating.”

Despite the fact that they were no longer being pursued by an endless hoard of shadows, the Lombax and Virditian climbed the last two flights of stairs with renewed vigor. Once they had passed through the final door upon reaching the ground level, Ratchet shoved it closed, but did not linger long enough to push anything up against it, as necessary as the extra security seemed. If anyone wanted to die a horrible death, it was their business.

“I sure hope the information we found was worth it,” Ratchet said, marching straight for the exit and the welcoming light beyond it.

“Oh, it will be,” Ophelia said, a spring returned to her step as she resumed hugging the binder, the need for the Pyrocitor’s comforting light no longer needed. “You’ll soon see that my plan is a logical one, and you’ll all feel pretty silly.”

“I do hope that the information contained in those backup tapes will prove enlightening, as well,” Clank added. “I would sincerely like to learn more about the civilization that existed before the black hole.”

When they arrived outside, Ratchet squinted in the bright sun. “Oh, Clank, do you feel that warmth? It’s so good to be back out in the open again.” He stretched his arms out from either side of him, relishing the heat upon his face. The humidity might have felt hot and sticky before, but now it was like getting an invisible hug. He would never voice that aloud, however. “Let’s get back to Aphelion.”

As the trio began to stroll off in the direction of the marshes beyond the city limits, Ratchet paused to frown at Mr. Zurkon when he noticed the small, hovering robot staring at him.

“You’re still here?”

“Why are we not killing stuff?”


	24. Gotta Love That Sweet Exposition

Staring out the viewport of the Starship Phoenix, it was impossible to believe that they drifted just beyond the outer reaches of the black hole that had sent this entire sector into the nightmarish darkness that could only be seen to be believed. It was the darkness one finds behind their eyelids at night, when, as a child, you were certain something horrifying and monstrous lurked on the other side of them. And if you could just keep them shut tight until morning, you’d be safe. Except, opening or closing your eyes was all the same here.

Any doubts Ratchet had felt, however, that this had been the correct location of the black hole was assuaged when Captain Qwark accidentally jettisoned the ship’s trash into space. It had taken several days for the black hole to pull it all in, a span of time in which Ophelia wouldn’t stop complaining. Dumping trash into the potential site of her ancestors’ lost home was apparently quite distressing to her. He considered this to be payback for her having the maintenance bots paint flames on Aphelion’s hull the other day. She had claimed it was meant as a “cool surprise”. Though it was certainly the latter, he could only roll his eyes at the former.

“Are you _absolutely_ sure this distance is safe?” the Lombax asked and turned back to catch his friend glance over from the computer monitor he was currently sitting in front of, the proper height obtained thanks to a pile of books that had been placed on his seat. The binder Ophelia had retrieved from the research facility was open on the counter before him, the computer being used to provide backup for anything the robot wished to confirm.

It had taken a lot of coaxing to get Ophelia to leave the robot to his own devices. If her beliefs concerning the black hole were sound, Ratchet reasoned, Clank would inevitably come to the same conclusion. Physically pushing her out the door helped, too.

“Yes, Ratchet. As I reiterated the _last_ time you asked me,” Clank began, turning to the next page of his research notes, “I was very careful in my calculations of the black hole’s gravitational pull, in relation to its size and the rate at which it attracted the ship’s…eh, refuse to it.”

Ratchet padded further into the room, putting an increased, if negligible, distance between himself and the trash-gobbling monstrosity behind him. “I think I’d feel more confident if you didn’t keep _redoing_ those calculations.”

“Yes, but you forget that I arrive at the same result every time. And I only repeat them because you ask me to.”

The Lombax waved a dismissive hand at his friend. “Okay, all right, point taken. I guess I’m just overreacting to the fact that we’re floating around next to one of the most dangerous things in the universe. Forget I said anything.”

The little robot blinked at him. “Do you want me to double check my calculations again?”

Ratchet bared his teeth in a grin. “After we’ve been friends…how many years, you really need to learn when I’m joking.”

With a shrug, his friend returned to scanning the notes before him, optics sometimes lifting to the computer screen. The smile the little robot had given him in return had been lukewarm, as if only conjured up in polite response to the Lombax’s own expression. It could just be because he was busy and distracted with other matters. Or it could be something else. Something had been decidedly…off about Clank lately. He knew why. Ratchet understood fully that recovery from what he had witnessed on Virditia would not come overnight. Any pretense of normality was strictly for the Lombax’s benefit. That was all.

Ratchet inwardly shook these thoughts loose. Too often they had taken up residence within his mind, cutting with their sharp claws and teeth. He logically knew that he couldn’t protect Clank from everything. But rarely did he ever have to actually _face_ that fact.

If he allowed Ophelia’s friend to achieve his goals, he’d have to face it again. And this time, the damage would be permanent.

Tearing away from these nagging concerns for the second time, Ratchet took to rummaging about in the lab for no other reason than to distract himself from the matter at hand. The lab of the Starship Phoenix was as baffling a room as he’d imagined, with cabinets filled with devices whose names or purposes at which he could only guess. Even the laboratory computers held countless log entries and patents for inventions that defied belief, the most mind-boggling courtesy of a Dr. Valence, dated nearly 20 years ago. All he needed was a good, old-fashioned wrench to get the job done, not particle accelerators and spectrometers.

The Lombax’s bored musing were interrupted when the door to the lab slid open, revealing none other than Ophelia herself. It was her fifth visit today, and he seriously doubted that it would be her last.

“No, Ophelia, Clank isn’t finished yet. We’ll let you know once we’ve determined whether or not you’re insane.” Ratchet grinned over at her from where he had sat down on the corner of a nearby worktable. He didn’t even need to see the tightening of her lips to know she was less than amused.

“That’s actually not the reason I’m here, but it’s good to see you’re still being a sassy jerkface.” Despite this denial, it was not lost on Ratchet that Ophelia couldn’t stop herself from glancing over in Clank’s direction, hands on her waist.

The Lombax raised both eyebrows. “Sassy jerkface, huh?”

“Hmm.” The woman’s pursed expression tilted into a smirk. “The _real_ reason I’m here is because-”

Before she could go on, a voice crackled to life over the intercom. “Hey, cadets! And cadet-ette…” The speaker cleared his throat before continuing in a deeper tone. “Attention, passengers, this is your Captain speaking.” Qwark could be heard breaking down into giggles, amidst a muffled, “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

“What do you need _this_ time, Qwark?” Ratchet addressed the ceiling.

“Nothing in particular. Though, thanks a bundle for helping me find the kitchen earlier. I _really_ had a craving for peanut butter. I swear they must have moved it to a whole different section of the ship.”

“Uh-huh. You’re welcome…I guess. Anything _else_?”

“Oh, right, the real reason why I called was I think I just figured out which button controls the trash chute. I even labelled it with a sticky note so I’ll never- Uh…hmm…”

They all stared up at the silence that greeted them, and this time, it was Clank’s turn to speak. “Captain Qwark, is everything all right?”

“What, oh yes, ev-everything’s fine. That was,” the Captain let out a nervous laugh, “that turned out to be the…the airlock. Uh…how many of those little maintenance robots do we have?”

“Precisely 568, I believe,” was the little robot’s response. His optics narrowed, “Why?”

There was another awkward laugh, followed by, “Well, we don’t anymore….” Qwark coughed. “Oh, and Ophelia…?”

The Virditian stood at attention, shrieking at the top of her lungs with a massive grin on her face. “Sir, yes, sir!”

“Operation Jumpscare is starting in fifteen minutes! If you don’t pull off the Micro-Maneuver soon, the whole mission will be a failure!”

“I’m on it, Big Q!”

“Godspeed, Flailing Mantis!”

Ratchet’s ears jumped up in alarm as the overhead speaker clicked off. “Wait, _what_?”

“Oh, right, Ratchet…um, I-I haven’t got much time! Just make sure you get down to the crew’s quarters _soon_!” Ophelia clapped her hands together and bounced on her toes. “I gotta get going! Bye!” With a final, enthusiastic giggle, she dashed for the door.

The Lombax stood, attempting to forestall her exit with a raised hand and an urgent, “ _Ophelia_!”

She came to a stop after nearly smacking headlong into the door, which had barely been given an opportunity to slide open at her approach. “Oh, yeah,” she spun to face him, “Qwark’s Big Q and I’m Flailing Mantis. I’m still working on a nickname for you, but…”

“ _No_ , what is so urgent? What’s going on?”

“Right. Well, I’m on popcorn-duty, and Qwark ordered pizza.” She frowned and scratched the side of her face. “Though, I don’t think it’s going to show up on time. According to their website, we’re a lightyear from the nearest Bodacious Pizza, but he didn’t seem to get the point. Do you think pizza delivery ships come equipped with warp speed?”

Before the Lombax could answer, his heartbeat just now beginning to slow alongside his burgeoning understanding of the situation, she cut him off once more. “No matter. I’ll figure something out. Just get down to the crew’s quarters in fifteen minutes, STAT! We’re gonna have a scary movie night. Bring a fresh pair of undies in case the sheer terror is too much for you.”

“Instead of making popcorn, I’d think a better use of your time would be to make sure that Qwark doesn’t press any more buttons. I’d hate to find out we also have a self-destruct button.”

Apparently taking his suggestion as a mere joke, the Virditian snorted at him as she turned and disappeared through the doorway.

Safely forgotten amidst this worrying conversation, it was only now that Clank found reason to look over, optics tilted in curiosity. “And _why_ would watching a scary movie warrant extra undergarments?”

“Don’t worry about it, Clank. Just consider it to be one of the many advantages of being a robot.”

Clank’s attention remained locked skyward in thought for a moment longer before he nodded. “I see. Well,” he turned back to the binder, one finger extended to scan the next line of text, “as much as your company is appreciated, do not feel you need to remain here. I am quite capable of continuing my research on my own.”

“Is this a nice way of saying I’m not being much help?”

The robot turned a stern look his way, though some of the strength of the expression was lost thanks to the robot’s crooked grin. “Ratchet, go have fun. If I recall correctly, Captain Qwark’s past terror during _The Twisted Mind of Dr. Demise_ seemed to amuse you.”

The Lombax sniggered at the memory. “You’d think that movie was a comedy based on how hard I was laughing.” He let out an additional snort when he remembered the superhero’s newest title as self-proclaimed leader of the group. “And I think you mean ‘ _Captain_ Captain Qwark’.”

The little robot giggled.

He supposed his friend had a point, after all. It _could_ be fun. Plus, he didn’t think Ophelia was going to take no for an answer. After all, what was it people often said when you couldn’t win them all? Oh, right. Pick your battles.

At least getting Clank to smile was one battle that was worth winning.

* * *

Steering Qwark away from one of his own movies was another victory well worth the effort. And fortunately, he also had Ophelia on his side. Though she seemed far less averse to the superhero’s movies than she rightly should have been, she was apparently quite adamant that they watch scary movies this evening rather than funny ones. Qwark’s chosen movie was clearly not intended as a comedy, but Ratchet thought he understood where she was coming from.

Seeing as the pizzas had not yet arrived, Ophelia had settled instead for creating her very own “deconstructed mini-pizzas” to take their place. She had informed him upon entering the crew’s quarters that the Phoenix kitchen was lacking in pizza crust, sauce, and pepperoni, so they had to settle with some partially melted cheese carefully piled atop circles of sliced white bread adorned with ketchup. The rest of the edible part of the festivities included assorted fizzy beverages, salty snacks, and of course, the requisite popcorn present at all movie nights. To do otherwise would be considered “blasphemy”, according to Ophelia, who seemed to be taking her newfound love of movies a tad too seriously.

Her enthusiasm was infectious, Ratchet had to admit. It was easy to take such simple things as watching movies for granted. Why, Ratchet distinctly remembered the excitement he had felt when he discovered that his and Clank’s new apartment in Metropolis had come equipped with a garbage disposal, something his home back on Veldin had sorely lacked. He had dropped all kinds of interesting things into the sink before learning that garbage disposals can’t quite grind up everything.

Who could have guessed that a banana peel would prove to be its undoing?

“By the way, who is watching the bridge?” Ratchet asked as the opening credits began, lights already off in preparation of the impending frights.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Qwark said, voice muffled as he worked around the mouthful of popcorn he was munching on. “The maintenance bots are taking care of that while I’m away.”

“It makes him seem rather redundant, doesn’t it?” Ophelia said with a wink directed at the Lombax beside her. He had barely enough time to spare her a smirk in return when the Virditian turned to slap the superhero’s hand away from the remote for trying to fast forward, hissing once more the single word of “blasphemy!”

The Lombax released a sigh, settling deeper into the soft couch as the title of their first movie, _Voodoo Madness_ , swooped onto the screen. Even heroes needed breaks sometimes, and this would certainly be a much appreciated one.

Unlike garbage disposals, free time had been one of the few things he had _not_ lacked back on Veldin.

* * *

Several hours later, and Ratchet’s bones were just beginning to recover from the bear hug into which he and Ophelia had been scooped during a particularly intense scene where it was revealed that the lead character’s grandmother had been under the voodoo priest’s control all along. After that, the door to the crew’s quarters had been sealed shut at Qwark’s request, lest any zombies happened to swim their way through the vacuum of space and climb aboard.

Since then, the credits had begun to roll on their second movie of the evening, allowing them time to discuss just how believable it really was for the unassuming librarian to have turned into a murderous psychopath thanks to an unfortunate ice cream cone accident.

“She knew it would melt one day,” Ophelia had said, “so why soil your morality over something so fleeting? Why not leave the big decisions up to your experiences with something far more lasting? Crackers, for example.”

Ratchet rolled his eyes. “Who even _cares_ why she did it? Why would she die of a heart attack just because the kid returned a book late? I mean, come _on_ , how lame is that?”

“Well, I actually kind of liked that part. At least they tried to make her into a relatable character.”

“Are you _kidding_ me? That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Their movie critique was interrupted by a less-than-manly shriek from Qwark, who pointed at the door, all the while quivering and attempting to chew on the fingernails of his other hand through his glove. “Ratchet, there’s someone at the door!”

Ratchet huffed. “It’s probably Clank! Ophelia, let him in, would you?”

She gawked at him. “ _Me_? What if it’s a brain-sucking zombie? I think Super Q should do it. He’s less susceptible to the whole brain-devouring thing.”

Ratchet sniggered.

Captain Qwark rose, quaking, to his feet, and threw out his chest, a stance that was made far less effective when it was done in slow motion, and planted his fists on his waist. “She’s right. I’m the only one here qualified to vanquish evil-doers, even those that are…” he gulped, “eh, undead and possessed by a Fongoid voodoo priest.”

Ratchet’s eyebrow arched with no thought needed on his part.

Qwark glanced between them, on the search for volunteers. Finding none, he headed for the door, gloved hand extending, only to draw back at a voice from the other side. But not in a “from beyond the grave” sense of the term, of course….

“Would you please open the door?”

Qwark shot a frightened stare in Ratchet’s direction. “Robots can’t be zombified, too, right?”

Rolling her eyes, Ophelia headed for the door when it appeared the superhero lacked the courage to finish the job himself. “Don’t be silly! They can certainly turn rogue, but they _can’t_ be turned into zombies.” She unlocked the door, allowing it to slide open. “You haven’t developed a sudden hatred of all living things, have you?”

Rather than dignify such a query with a response, Clank merely stared up at her, tablet clutched in one hand, before peeking around to find Qwark now withdrawn to the back corner of the room and a Lombax still sitting on the couch with an amused smirk on his face.

Apparently deciding that deciphering the details of the current situation was a waste of time, Clank entered the room. “I have been studying the notes you have provided me, Ophelia,” he began, “and you will no doubt be happy to hear that the research behind the scientists’ hypothesis is indeed sound.”

Ophelia clapped her hands together as she followed the robot back into the room. “Oh, wonderful!”

Ratchet turned back to the holoscreen, just about to stop the movie when the post-credits scene began playing. He opted for the mute button instead. Apparently the librarian had survived her heart attack, after all, and was still on the prowl, her goal of eliminating all those who spoke too loudly in libraries not yet met. Man, the people who made this movie really thought it warranted a _Quiet in the Library 2_ , didn’t they?

Ratchet inwardly shrugged. Eh. He wouldn’t mind seeing it.

Clank stopped in front of the couch just as the Lombax was turning the movie off, but not before the obligatory “The End?” appeared on screen.

“Well, I’d like to hear what you’ve found out, Clank. Ophelia’s not crazy, after all, then?” He winced when an empty soda can was hurled at his head.

“Not at all,” was the robot’s response. Ratchet couldn’t blame his friend for taking the question seriously. Ophelia was a weird one, all right. “The research notes went into great detail into how the Four Horsemen might have survived its descent into the black hole, but I will try to get straight to the point. This…magnetic anomaly, as Ophelia described it, appears to be far more complex than that. What exactly it is, I do not yet know. But the scientists devoted many decades, perhaps even centuries, to studying it. Without a firm grasp as to what this object is, I cannot say for certain whether or not it could have survived the immense gravitational forces present within a black hole on its merits alone. But I did learn of a radio frequency that is specific to the Four Horsemen. Upon visiting the Phoenix’s bridge, I discovered that this very same radio frequency is indeed emitting from within the black hole. In short, the Four Horsemen does appear to still exist, quite possibly within a…bubble of sorts outside of our own dimension.”

By now, Ophelia had settled back onto the couch beside Ratchet and was picking a few pieces of popcorn out of her puff of hair. “I told you guys I was right.”

“Even so,” Clank went on, “attempting to travel through a black hole is incredibly dangerous and would subject the traveler to a massive amount of gravitational force. If this is truly what your friends intends to do, he is going to have a very difficult time of it.”

“I know. But he planned on using Nefarious to help him. What if Petaer breaks him out of jail?” She looked about the room, a frown pulling down at her lips when she noticed Qwark was occupied more with scrolling through the available selection of movies than the discussion at hand. “We may have slowed him down, but I don’t think we’ve stopped him. His goal isn’t _impossible_ , right?”

Clank shook his head. “No, not impossible, just improbable. And I agree, if he _were_ to release Dr. Nefarious from prison, then the odds of his success are admittedly much higher. By the way, Ophelia, before I forget, there was a signal transmitting from the bridge. Was it yours?”

“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you guys earlier,” Ophelia sat up straighter, “I’m sending out a radio message on a loop. It’s for Petaer, to see if, you know, he wants to be civil and talk this out. If anyone can change his mind, it would probably be me. I hope. But, if it turns out he doesn’t want to talk, I’ve been thinking, and I have a plan.”

Ratchet’s ears twitched. “What sort of plan?” He elbowed Qwark in the side when the superhero continued to ignore the conversation. He hoped the pained yelp he received in response meant the man was listening. If not, he couldn’t say the jab was wasted effort.

She turned to face Ratchet more fully and folded her legs beneath her. “Well, since Petaer’s pretty much impossible to find, it’s gonna be pretty hard to stop him directly. So I was thinking that we needed to…go to the source, if you know what I mean.”

The Lombax tilted his head, eyes glancing over at Clank, whose attention was also focused on the Virditian. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“You see, all it feels like we’ve been doing is running around in circles, so we need to try to get one step ahead of _him_. To do that, we need to go inside the black hole and destroy that thing he’s after.” She turned back towards Clank, a stray piece of popcorn falling from her hair. “That makes sense, right?”

Clank was silent for a moment as he thought this over. “Your logic is sound. But that does not mean your plan will be any easier for us than it will be for your friend. Fortunately, if Petaer _does_ still require assistance from Dr. Nefarious, provided he does not figure out another method for achieving his goal, we may have a head start.” With that, the robot’s green optics focused next on his friend. “Ratchet, are you up for the task?”

Not expecting the conversation to directly involve him, Ratchet jolted to attention. “What? _Me_ , why?”

“Lombaxes are among the greatest inventors in the galaxy. If anyone can do it, it would be you.”

At the robot’s reassuring smile, all Ratchet could do in return was shrug. He was just a mechanic, not an inventor. But before he could question his friend’s faith in his abilities any further, the superhero spoke up for the first time since Clank’s arrival.

“Don’t worry, Ratchet. You’ll do great,” Qwark said, still in the middle of placing every one of his own movies into a Watch List for later.

“What _was_ the plan, Qwark? Do you even remember?”

“Oh, yeah, right…” the man shrugged, his words trailing off into distracted mumbles, “you’re gonna…fly into a black hole. And go get some…wild horses…or something…”

Eyeing the superhero with barely hidden disdain, Ratchet turned back to Clank as the little robot spoke up once more. “You have…all been very helpful. Now, if you would not mind, I would like-”

“ _Four_ horses!”

The entire group turned in unison to stare at Qwark after his sudden outburst. Though the man wore a confident smile across his face at his newest epiphany, it was short-lived when he caught sight of the stares directed his way. He coughed. “Four horses.” He held up three fingers. “Four of ‘em…”

“As I was saying,” Clank went on, “I would like to speak with Ratchet alone, so if the two of you could leave for the time being, it would be very much appreciated.”

Ophelia sat up straighter. “Huh? Me, too? All right.” She stood up, directing a brief wave at the group before heading for the door. “I look forward to hearing more good news from you guys later.”

Qwark was quick to follow her out of the room, the awkwardness of his earlier outburst still very much present at his heels. “Well, I have a date with danger to get back to.”

Once the door had slid closed behind their allies, Clank wasted no time. “I have been studying the data we retrieved on Zeta-13, and I believe I have discovered several interesting pieces of knowledge. Of course, my research is far from complete, and I will have to evaluate my remaining records to form any solid conclusions.”

Ratchet leaned forward, elbows propped in his lap, the full extent of his attention focused on his friend’s words. “All right. What’ve you got for me?”

“First of all,” Clank climbed into the nearby armchair, “I was successful in finding a good deal of information on Ophelia’s ancestors, the N’Deans. It appears they were the center of power for their star system, as Marcadia and Igliak are to Solana and Polaris. Even the people of Zeta-13 seemed to hold them in high regard. They were praised for maintaining peace in their system for nearly 1000 years. During this time, there was no war, no conflict, and minimal poverty.”

Ratchet whistled. “Yeah, Ophelia told me as much back on Virditia. Sounds pretty hard to believe, though.”

Clank scratched his chin. “Now, there are certain details that I find suspect, and I am curious if your thoughts coincide with mine. The N’Deans were essentially the ambassadors for peace in their galaxy. At one time or another, they visited every planet in the sector, all for the purposes of fixing their respective problems. Improving poverty levels, removing corrupt leaders, even ending famines.”

The Lombax sat up straighter. “How would someone go about ending a famine?”

The little robot shook his head. “I do not know. Even machinery that can duplicate certain weather phenomenon cannot end a large scale drought.”

“And,” Ratchet went on, “from what I’ve seen, most planets who think it’s their business to fix everyone’s problems are in it for themselves more than anything.”

Clank nodded. “My thoughts exactly. It seems all the more likely that their intentions were not entirely selfless, as even once the populace’s problems were solved, a large number of N’Deans remained on the planet they had come to help. It is not like a peaceful race to intervene in the affairs of other planets, especially in so permanent a fashion. Furthermore, every planet I read about had N’Deans involved in their upper levels of government, in 100% of the cases.

“Another problem the N’Deans sought to solve was a plague involving the Mortesanguem Virus. It was once more prevalent, but now it is very rare for any cases to be reported, except in the most primitive of planets. At this time in history, however, the virus had affected nearly every planet in that sector, except for the mother planet of N’De. The N’Deans were said to be the only ones with the cure, of which they shared with no one, though they were able to heal most people infected with the disease. Except, from time to time, thousands to millions of citizens would perish overnight. They claimed they were too slow to stop the outbreak, and no investigation was ever done because the cities that were stricken were put under a permanent quarantine.”

Ratchet blinked several times, his lips moving as he thought over the large amount of information the robot had just given him. “So…what’s all this mean?”

“You see, what concerns me the most about this is, of the rare cases in which anyone has suffered from this virus, it never comes on, and kills the victim, overnight, let alone millions of people in so short a span. It is highly contagious, yes, but if left untreated, it would still take at least a week to spread to every member of a heavily populated city. And unless they knew something back then that we do not, there is still no cure.”

“You think it wasn’t a virus that killed all those people, then?”

Clank nodded. “Precisely.”

“Then…hey, but what does any of this have to do with that…Four Horsemen thing?”

“I am not certain, but I have reason to believe there may be a connection. Only further research will confirm my theory, but I did once catch mention of a mysterious, unnamed machine the N’Deans possessed. It was said to be very powerful, but they claimed it had never been put to use, as its mere presence alone was enough to maintain peace and prevent anyone from ever going to war with them.”

“And do you think _that’s_ the Four Horsemen?”

“I do not know. Ophelia said that it was a magnetic anomaly. While this device sounds entirely different, there is enough of a similarity that I have to wonder if they are one and the same. And if I am correct, Ophelia is sorely mistaken as to the Four Horsemen’s identity.”

“It certainly _sounds_ pretty suspicious. Maybe that machine is behind all those deaths?”

“Perhaps. I do not want to jump to any conclusions quite yet, but that is what I fear may be the case. I still have more records to decipher. Maybe they will provide us with more clues. And Ratchet…”

Ratchet could manage no more than a quiet hum in response. He certainly had a lot to ponder over.

“Please do not tell Ophelia what I have discovered. She believes so strongly that her ancestors were peaceful, I worry she may be heartbroken if she were to discover the truth. Either way, she is correct that the Four Horsemen is a threat worth eliminating. The details do not matter.”

“Yeah, I won’t tell her.”

“I will get back with you once I learn more. And…” the robot paused, “I do hope I did not put you on the spot earlier. You have the most mechanical aptitude out of anyone else in the group, and-”

“It’s fine, Clank. I’m…I’m sure I can figure something out.” He shrugged. “I mean, I’ll probably need your help once, you know, you’re less busy.”

“Of course, Ratchet. I am always happy to be of assistance. Now, it is probably time you got some rest. Most organics require eight hours of sleep a night, and you are already an hour and a half behind schedule.”

Ratchet laughed. “All right, _mom_!” When the robot tilted his head at him, the Lombax stood, stretching his arms skyward with a yawn. “Good night, Clank. See you in the morning.”

“Good night, Ratchet. Sleep well.”

He watched his friend exit the room, leaving the crew’s quarters silent and empty aside from the lone Lombax standing at its center, a look of utmost contemplation melting over his features. Clank was probably right. He had a long day ahead of him, and he needed his rest. But surviving a trip inside a black hole? He was a mechanic, not a physicist.

His contemplation was interrupted by the sound of the door sliding open once more. Looking over, his gaze landed on the face of a thin and pimpled Rilgarian teen staring at him with several sufficiently flat boxes in his arms.

“Uh, you…” he attempted to work around his braces, “you guys ordered pizza?”

* * *

When Ratchet woke up the next morning, not even Qwark’s snoring could get him out of bed. Rather, he remained staring at the bottom of the superhero’s bunk for some time, mind abuzz with the same things that had originally delayed sleep nearly eight hours prior. This was not the first time he had trouble getting up, and it would certainly not be his last.

Clank had a point. Sort of. Lombaxes _were_ master inventors. But he was just a mere mechanic. He hadn’t even grown up with his kind…as such, sometimes he didn’t really feel like much of a Lombax.

But something needed to be done, and he supposed he was the only suitable candidate for the job. Again, sort of. Rather than continue to dwell on the daunting task ahead of him, his thoughts settled instead on one more memory from last night. He probably should have warned the pizza delivery guy about the black hole.

An hour later, and he had still not progressed beyond breakfast. The window in the Phoenix’s kitchen encompassed the entire back wall of the room, and situated against it was a table and two benches. There wasn’t much eating space, but on a ship whose crew was typically comprised mainly of robots, there was little need for much else.

He sat with his back to the reinforced glass, the thin layer of clear material the only thing between him and the deadly vacuum residing just on the other side. A bowl of cereal was set on the table before him, the kind that was more like cardboard than actual food. He couldn’t stand the sight that lay beyond, nothing but blackness where there should have been stars. It was the most lonesome sight anyone could imagine, especially when he knew the black hole responsible for such oblivion was out there.

The Lombax continued to spoon the occasional helping of wet, spongy cereal into his mouth with little notice that he was doing so. It was only a soft thump and the clinking of metal that pulled him from his reverie and drew his attention to the bench across from him.

“Oh. Hey, Ophelia.”

The Viridtian provided only a nod in response, her focus instead on swirling her bowl of cereal about with her spoon. “There used to be sugary cereal in here.”

“Yep.”

“With those weird, hard marshmallows…”

He nodded.

“I guess Qwark ate them all.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“And we’re just gonna stand for that?”

He glanced upwards, spoon still in his mouth, and raised his eyebrows. “Hmm?”

Grinning, she shrugged one shoulder. “Qwark ate all the good cereal. I think this calls for revenge.” When he failed to respond, she leaned in closer, arms crossed before her on the table. “I guess it’s too early to carry on a conversation. Am I right, sleepyhead?”

Ratchet chuckled. “Yeah. I’ve never been a big morning person.”

“It’s fine.” She used the spoon to point between their bowls. “I guess this stuff’s not gonna eat itself.”

True to his earlier comment, Ratchet merely wobbled his head in the most noncommittal manner a sleepy Lombax like himself could muster. He wished someone else could eat this cereal on his behalf. The longer it soaked in milk, the more like paste it became.

Ratchet kicked his feet, the chewing of mushy cereal and the clink of their spoons the only sound in the otherwise silent room. He supposed a little effort wouldn’t kill him. Forcing down the last spoonful of cardboard mush, he looked up again at last.

“Uh, Ophelia, about your friend…”

“Yeah?”

“I-I was just wondering, was he always…”

She released a gentle laugh. “Do you mean, was he always bad? No, no he wasn’t.” Placing the spoon into her bowl, she pushed it aside, half the contents still untouched. It must have been really bad if Ophelia, new self-professed lover of greasy fast food, couldn’t even stand it. “I think I’ve already told you, but…Petaer and I, we grew up together. We were as close as brother and sister, actually. _Closer_. When his mother died, I shared mine. When my older sister died, he shared his younger. And so on…”

Ratchet looked away, remaining silent as the woman’s description of her past, though brief, caused an icy lump to settle in the pit of his stomach. He was never very good with this sort of thing. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if _anyone_ was. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

On second thought, maybe the lump was just the cereal.

“It’s okay, Ratchet.”

He looked up, just now realizing how much time he had allowed to pass since she had spoken. “Oh, sorry. I-I mean, that must have been-”

“It’s okay,” she repeated, a half-felt grin adorning her face. “Too much information, huh? Yeah, what happened…it hurts. It still hurts a lot sometimes. But it’s in the past.” She tilted her head. “Losing one’s family sucks, huh?”

One corner of his mouth rose into an understanding grin to mimic her own, just as lukewarm, just as bitter. “Yeah, it does.” He shrugged and added, “ _Life_ just kinda sucks.”

Ophelia laughed, the sound a lot more genuine than her smile had been moments before. “You got that right!” Even so, as soon as it had begun, it stopped, and she sniffed. “I miss Petaer, too.”

“Hmm…”

“I-I mean, he…he and I were once such good friends.” She looked down, brushing her puff of bright red hair away from her face, only to allow it to fall in front of her once again. “I wish he would just…contact me. I just…want to talk to him again. I want to tell him I’m sorry…” By now, her voice had dropped so low that Ratchet could barely pick up her words. She sniffed again. “That I’m sorry about…getting angry at him.”

“He wants to destroy all robots in the galaxy, Ophelia. Why should _you_ be sorry?”

“I just…didn’t need to get so upset with him. That’s…” she paused, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, “that’s when we parted ways,” she finished in a whisper.

For the second time that morning, the Lombax remained at a loss for words. He stood, bowl in hand, grabbing hers as he went by almost as an afterthought on the way to the sink.

“There’s something I wanted to talk with you about,” Ophelia began.

He looked back just in time to catch her moving to join him in his corner of the kitchen. “Yeah, what is it?”

“I’m actually…asking you a favor, Ratchet, and it’s one you should understand, so just listen.”

He placed the bowls into the sink and turned around. “I’m listening.”

“I was thinking…if the black hole really leads to another dimension…I was wondering if there was some way my ancestors might still be in there. You’ve got to help me, Ratchet.” She clasped her hands together. “I’ve dreamt my whole life that I might meet them one day. My family’s all gone, and I just want to see if the legends about N’De are true. If we’re able to find a way into the black hole…maybe we can save them. It’ll be…like a rescue mission.” Though a shine of tears still tracked down her cheeks, her face was alight with a renewed hope that made him once more avert his gaze.

“I, uh…” he paused, internally choosing his next words with more care. Finding none, he settled for a delaying tactic instead. “You really believe they’re still out there, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do. You of all people should understand the…the desperation to be reunited with your people. I mean, these aren’t _really_ my people, just our distant ancestors, but…” she shrugged, “I guess this is the closest I’m going to get. The Virditians are a dying people. There’s…there’s no hope for them.”

“Why don’t they just leave?” he asked, reprimanding himself a moment later for his lack of tact.

She laughed harder at this than it seemed she had any right to. “Just _leave_. It sounds so easy, huh? My people, they’re so stubborn. They think everything that’s happened…it’s some sort of punishment for their crimes. It’s…it’s ridiculous!” Pausing, she wiped a hand across her face. “Some people can be so…so stupid. So…will you do it? Help me save my people, I mean?”

“If…they’re still in there, then sure. What other choice do we have? If we can really find a way inside the black hole, then I don’t see why a rescue mission should be a problem.”

“Oh, thank you!”

His body tensed as she lunged forward to engulf him in a tight embrace that squeezed the breath from him.

“You’re…welcome,” he said through gasps.

Though he struggled to free himself, her grip on him only tightened further, and he felt her press a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m glad I met you, Ratchet.”

* * *

His encounter with Ophelia ended as abruptly as it had begun, the Virditian rushing out afterward with some barely thought-out excuse, something about forgetting to vacuum the laundry and put the floors in the washing machine. No one had to do any chores around here. There were maintenance bots for that sort of thing. Provided Qwark hadn’t wiped them all out with his careless button-pressing yet.

It had taken him several moments to recover, the Lombax rooted to the spot, mind numb, as he processed what had just happened. She was just excited, right? That had just been a friendly peck on the cheek. _Right_? Did girls do stuff like that?

Talwyn had never kissed him.

Sasha had, though.

He’d better not think too much into it.

Now that his procrastination had gone on for long enough, and there were certain things he’d just as soon forget, Ratchet entered the lab, where he found Clank busily tapping away at the computer keyboard with both index fingers.

“Clank,” Ratchet raised one hand in greeting. “I see you’re still studying those records, huh? Find out anything new?”

“Good morning, Ratchet,” Clank said. “I have indeed uncovered additional information that you might find interesting.”

There was a peculiar sort of seriousness in the robot’s demeanor that woke Ratchet from his earlier stupor and forced him to focus. He sat down at the computer terminal closest to his friend, arm resting on the desk beside him. “Yeah, Clank, what is it?”

“You remember the plague I told you about, correct?”

Ratchet nodded.

“Well, as I mentioned before, while some cities were cured, others lost their entire population in a matter of hours. I did not believe even the Mortesanguem Virus could kill so many in so short a time span, but what caught my attention most of all was the correlation I found between the people who lived and those who did not. Planets whose populations dropped by millions in a single day also had cause to dislike the N’Deans. More often than not, these were planets that suffered the most interference from N’Dean influence, or were comprised of races whom, based on the traits of their modern day descendants, don’t take kindly to the ideals of outsiders.”

Ratchet’s head bobbed. “Right. I’m…I’m feeling kind of tired right now, Clank. Could you tell me what you think this means?”

“Based on this new information, I have more reason than ever to doubt it was an illness that killed those people. Rather, I believe this so-called ‘peace machine’ is behind this.” Clank closed his optics, rubbing them as if he, too, was suffering from some sort of weariness. “And if I am correct, I fear the consequences of allowing the Four Horsemen to fall into the wrong hands to be even more dangerous than our efforts to reach it.”

“I’ll see what I can figure out, Clank. Still, I’m not all that convinced that we really have anything to worry about. I mean, I’d say this thing is locked away in a pretty safe place, if you ask me.”

Clank was silent for a moment. “I suppose you have a point,” was all he ended up saying, though the little robot’s mouth remained open for a second longer even once the final syllable had been uttered. With a shake of his head, he seemed to think better of it and returned to tapping away at the keyboard, the steady rhythm of earlier replaced by a dissonant pressing of keys that spoke of a mind focused elsewhere.

Ratchet booted up the computer to begin some research of his own, glancing over when Clank failed to speak further. He clicked on the first icon he saw on the desktop, a folder that contained a database of the lab’s many log entries, data files, you name it. They were the same files he had perused yesterday out of boredom. This time, he had a purpose for his previously aimless clicking.

“Ophelia brought something up this morning. She still believes that her ancestors are alive inside that black hole. That’s not possible, right?”

“The chances of their survival are non-existent.” Clank didn’t even bother to look over. “The device is one thing, but organic beings is another.”

Ratchet sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

Silence resumed, and the pair continued to tackle their own separate work. Ratchet skimmed over file after file, searching for relevant keywords, scanning the results, and ultimately coming up empty. He supposed the need to survive a trip inside a black hole had just never come up before. Go figure. An hour passed, maybe more, when his concentration was broken by his friend’s voice, so soft, he wasn’t certain at first that he hadn’t merely imagined it.

“Ratchet… I have been thinking.”

“Hmm? What is it, pal?” When there was no answer, Ratchet looked over. “Clank?”

Clank was staring at the floor, at the tiny feet of his that dangled a foot off the ground. His mouth opened and closed several times. Eventually, the robot looked over. “Ratchet, I am uncertain you fully understand how serious this situation is.”

“I get it, Clank. That Four Horsemen thing is dangerous. I _know_ that. What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time?”

Clank said nothing at first. “We need to be ready to do whatever it takes to prevent Petaer from retrieving it. Even if he fails, another villain may come along who does not. One who is more resourceful. More intelligent.”

“I _know_ , Clank. I’m not sure what else you want me to say. I need to concentrate.”

And yet, he found himself unable to look away. There was a fear in the normally stoic robot’s eyes that drew Ratchet’s focus to him like a magnet attracting iron. What exactly it was that was bothering him so, he couldn’t quite say.

“I…I just want you to understand one thing, Ratchet. Whatever happens, do not forget…we will never be safe while that machine exists.”

But if Clank was worried, they all should be.

* * *

Clank left the room once their conversation had ended, his last words ringing through Ratchet’s subconscious on an endless loop. The Lombax spent the next uncounted hours poring over the lab database. While nothing quite piqued his fancy, he did skim over a number of articles and patents with a dizzying amount of scientific jargon all written by the same Dr. Valence from before. The fact that he understood less than a percent of it only drove the point home that he had gotten in over his head.

Nevertheless, he continued his tireless research through the night until he fell asleep on the keyboard, awaking the very next morning with a cramp in his neck.

This went on for several days, the Lombax studying the laboratory records, a growing rivalry budding between him and this Dr. Valence. If only that guy was here, maybe they’d have figured something out by now. Be that as it may, the Doctor was _not_ here, and it was up to Ratchet, as the one with the most technical aptitude, to figure something out.

He started a few projects, only to discard them when it became clear they weren’t getting him anywhere. He knew plenty about building things. Lombaxes were famous across the galaxy for their ingenuity and mechanical prowess. He could build a working ship from scrap, and he once even cobbled together a hoverbike using the wires and bits of material from their previous holoscreen after it had died and a few choice parts from their dishwasher. (Admittedly, Clank had been less than pleased when he found out.) Sure, it had crashed after his third use of it, but if he could have just made one tiny adjustment… Well, in the end, his friend wouldn’t allow it. But he _could_ have fixed it.

Nevertheless, this was different. This was surviving a trip inside a black hole. This was counteracting a force that could strip molecules. The ship would need to be equipped with a booster strong enough to allow for piloting into, and more importantly, _out_ of, a black hole. If this went wrong, they couldn’t simply walk away with nothing but a bruised elbow and a twisted ankle. There was no room for adjustments after the fact.

He had never done something like _this_ before. And frankly, he wasn’t certain he could.

It was on the evening of the fourth day that Ratchet trudged, exhausted, to the crew’s quarters to relax and take his mind off of his most recent failed prototype. He knew something was up the moment he was greeted by the ominous silencing of Ophelia, Captain Qwark, and even Clank as soon as he entered the room. At his approach, the trio turned to eye him with an awkward sort of shame now that their discussion had been cut short, like a kid caught red-handed by their parents.

Ratchet’s tail began flicking this way and that of its own accord. “Hey,” was the first thing that came to mind. Casual though it was, he did not receive a response right away.

As if jolted awake by a sudden spark, Ophelia’s face split into a smile and she waved at the approaching Lombax. “Oh, Ratchet, I’m glad you’re here. We were just talking, and…”

Ratchet stopped nearby, but did not sit down. “ _Yeah_?”

The Virditian looked between the group, but no one managed to maintain eye contact with her or the Lombax. “We were thinking about this Four Horsemen thingy, and…well, it seems like everyone’s come to an agreement that it must be destroyed. The only thing we haven’t figured out yet is…how to reach it.” By now, her smile had faded away, and she didn’t even bother trying to bring it back. “Ratchet, how’s your work been coming along?”

His tail flicking more ferociously than ever, he suppressed a sigh. He had gotten absolutely nowhere. Zilch. Nada. His hand rose to scratch at the back of his head. “I’m…I’m still working on it. I just…” His arm dropped back down to his side. “I’ve got nothing. I-I know nothing about this kind of thing, and…” He trailed off. What else was there to say? He wasn’t quite certain Ophelia’s question even required a response.

“Well, that’s…kind of what we were taking about.” Sucking in a breath, Ophelia squared her shoulders, for once looking him directly in the eye. “We need Dr. Nefarious’ help. None of us have the knowledge required-”

Ratchet’s heartbeat spiked at these words. “W-wait a minute! Ophelia, I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again, we do _not_ need Nefarious! This…this is….I kicked you off the team for pulling a stunt like this, and you seriously want to bring this up again?” Turning to the other members of the group, he held out an arm, as if imploring them to see reason. “Are you guys hearing this?”

Barely giving the others a chance to speak, Ratchet turned back to the Virditian, his tail whipping furiously. “I don’t know what’s the deal with your obsession with Nefarious, Ophelia, but-”

“It…was actually _my_ idea.”

The Lombax’s tirade was cut short when a soft voice interrupted him. He looked over to find Clank staring up at him. “ _Wh-what_?”

The little robot struggled to maintain eye contact. “I would not suggest such a thing if there was any other option. I believe Dr. Nefarious is the only person who can help us reach this device. I realize the perils of releasing a dangerous criminal from prison, but I have weighed every option, and I fear, at least in the short term, that _more_ lives could be lost if we do not.”

Ratchet had to force his fists to unclench. “I thought you said you didn’t even know what it did.”

“That is correct, but please listen to me. I also believe having Dr. Nefarious on our team is the only way to ensure that he does not fall into Petaer’s clutches again. Believe me when I say I would not have made this decision unless I deemed it to be entirely vital to the completion of our mission.”

Ratchet laughed. “ _Our_ mission? Well, seeing as you didn’t feel the need to run this by me _before_ you made any decisions, I guess I have to assume I’m not a part of this mission, am I?”

There was a silence, the little robot tapping the ends of his fingers together. “I…” He dropped his head. “I already knew what you would say.”

Ratchet nodded. “So you thought you’d go behind my back, then? I thought we were a team, Clank. I thought we made decisions together.” His gaze swept across the group, everyone drawing back as his attention fell on them one by one. When he spoke again, his voice was flat. “So it’s unanimous then? Is that what I’m supposed to believe?”

No one said anything, but that was answer enough.

“Fine, if that’s how it is, I guess I’ve got no choice.” Ratchet turned and headed for the door, pausing just once to add, “Just know I won’t be happy about it.”


	25. We’re Bustin’ Outta This Joint, See?

Two hundred feet below their current position sat squatly like an artificial mountain an imposing shape that may have been familiar, but was far from comforting. Zordoom Prison was so massive in scale, it felt more like an extension of the mountainous landscape than an artificial structure, its form jutting high above the ocean into which it was anchored. The transport they had taken from the Phoenix was newly painted to obscure any distinguishing characteristics that might allow someone to trace it back to the place where it hailed. For all anyone else knew, they were simply another patrolling police cruiser on its usual rounds.

The fact that Zordoom Prison was back under galactic control did little to ease its reputation as one of the most dismal places in the galaxy. It was not Tachyon and his short-lived Empire that had made it that way. Rather, it was as if infamy had been an intentional part of its design in a manner no different from any blast-proof door or quadruple-paned and rocket-resistant window.

It was exactly the sort of place where monsters like Nefarious belonged. How Ratchet had gotten wrangled into a plan of such illegal connotations, he had no idea. But it all smelled wrong when the ones who ran the place they intended to trespass were their allies rather than their enemies.

“And here is the location of the maximum security wing,” Clank went on as he pointed to a particular spot on the screen, his increased height due to the fact that he was standing in the copilot seat. Being shared by both the Solana and Polaris Galaxies, with the Galactic Rangers serving as the police force on behalf of them both, Clank had experienced no trouble downloading the prison’s schematics from the Phoenix’s database. “Even though the schematics may be outdated, it seems unlikely the facility’s main layout has changed too significantly in the past five years. We have every reason to believe that this is the spot where Dr. Nefarious is being held, and as such, I fear that it will be a much more difficult operation than our rescue of Talwyn.”

“This isn’t a rescue.” Ratchet’s arms were crossed, the fingers of one hand digging into his sleeve in a curious twitch. Wherever it was that he was going with that statement, he didn’t bother finishing it. Everyone in the cockpit was aware of his stand on the matter. The time for protest was long since behind him. But he still had some questions that needed to be voiced. “How do we know Nefarious is going to be willing to cooperate?”

The robot’s large, green optics lifted from the monitor in front of him. His mouth opened, though it seemed to take visible effort to force any words out. All he could manage was the same tired excuse the Lombax had already heard several times prior. “Dr. Nefarious is the only person who can help us-”

“Yeah, I’ve already heard that one. It doesn’t change the fact that Nefarious is far more likely to want to _kill_ us than to become our allies.”

Clank frowned, his eyelids lowering in what would be a sure sign of weariness in any organic. “Every part of my plan has been accounted for…except for Dr. Nefarious’ cooperation. No,” he shook his head, “I cannot guarantee that he will be willing to lend us a hand. We will not know until we reach him.”

“It’ll be fine, Ratchet!” Ophelia attempted to squeeze his shoulder, but he shrugged out of her grip. “Nefarious has as much motivation to stop Petaer as we do. What we’re doing…” with a heave, she pulled her arm though the other shoulder strap of her parachute, “it’s for the greater good. Right?”

Captain Qwark sat up straighter in the pilot seat. “Right! The old ‘the end justifies the means’ bit. If you want something, you gotta take it. Like candy from a baby. That baby doesn’t need candy anyway.”

Ratchet sniffed, but refrained from making any further comment on the matter.

“Are you absolutely certain you are okay with this, Ratchet?” Clank attempted to catch his friend’s gaze, only to drop his focus to a spot on the floor between them. “Once we begin the operation, there will be no turning back.”

The Lombax looked away. “I think I’ve already made my thoughts clear on the matter.” They had worked with Nefarious before back on Magnus, and though everything had _technically_ worked out in the end, that didn’t mean the whole experience was without its fair share of…incidents, either. The psycho had almost managed to shoot him several times. Oh, but it had all been an _accident_. A…twitchy trigger finger, if he recalled the villain’s excuse correctly. It would have only been marginally more convincing had he not used finger quotes.

And let’s not forget the time Nefarious had somehow managed to light the Lombax’s tail on fire. Then there was that one night when they were camping in the Deadgrove, and Ratchet had woken up sometime around midnight to catch two glowing red eyes glaring at him from across their makeshift camp. He had apparently forgotten how many _other_ glowing lights he had on his countenance to give himself away. Naturally, the supervillain had denied the whole thing the very next morning, but it was definitely him all right.

“The sooner we get this over with, the better. You good up here, Qwark?”

“I mean, why would you even _give_ a baby candy anyway? It’ll get cavities. Is that how they want the little tyke’s life to start out? In misery. What kind of sick galaxy do we live in that parents are willing to doom their children to the dentist’s drill?”

“Are you ready or not?”

Qwark rolled his eyes. “Ready for _what_? You guys didn’t give me any of the juicy parts. All I get to do is fly the ship. I’m a hero, Ratchet, not a cab driver.”

“Then fly heroically.”

The Captain scowled at him. “It’s good to see you’re taking my pain seriously.”

Ratchet pulled Clank onto his back as he headed for the exit hatch. As Ophelia took up her place at his side, a quick glance over told him that she was visibly shaking. Under her breath, he could just catch her muttering, “Just…push the button. That’s all. Before you hit the ground, preferably.” A nervous laugh escaped her that she hardly seemed to be aware of.

Ratchet eyed his quivering comrade. “You okay, Ophelia?”

She responded with a thumbs up and a forced smile that conveyed anything but.

“I’ll tell you when to activate your parachute.” Looking back over his shoulder, Ratchet continued, “Qwark, can you get us in position? The guards are bound to get suspicious if we keep hovering up here for much longer.”

Qwark faced forward in his seat and proceeded to make a grand display of indignant huffing and puffing as he steered the ship to their drop point. Ratchet pushed a button beside the exit, and the hatch slid open with a sudden rush of wind that stole the breath from him. Stepping towards the edge, he leaned over the side to better peer down at the churning waves far, far beneath them. Directly below, moving parallel to them, was the rail that transported the mobile cells from place to place. They just had to land on one. Yeah, _just_. _Simple_.

“Just follow my lead!” Ratchet sucked in a breath of air and leaped from the ship, Ophelia following suit moments later with a shriek.

Ratchet spread his arms out from his sides and positioned his body horizontally. Air rushed past his ears with a deafening roar, his teeth bared, if only thanks to the wind blowing one cheek back. This used to be fun, once he got used to the feeling of his stomach dropping out from underneath him. Now it was just another part of the job.

He forced his body to lean towards the right, his eyes locked onto one cell in particular. “Clank, Ophelia, now!”

Clank activated his helipack without a moment’s hesitation. Their descent slowed in a sudden jerk, Ratchet’s stomach jumping into his throat as the cell lined up beneath them. He landed on all fours to better soften the thump of their impact and immediately hunkered down to appear as small as possible.

A second later, Ophelia banged into the cell’s roof several feet from his position, scrambling madly against the smooth metal surface as she began to slip over the edge. Launching himself forward without thinking, Ratchet grabbed her by the wrist just as her dangling parachute caught in the wind, tearing her already perilous grip free entirely. Producing a knife from beneath her layers and layers of clothing, she cut the parachute loose with her free hand as Ratchet pulled her to safety.

“That was a close one! You okay?”

It took her several moments to answer beyond a frantic nod. “Fine, fine! I hate heights, Ratchet! They really freak me out!” With another shaky laugh, she brushed her crimson hair from her face. “Thanks, though! I didn’t really feel like taking a swim today, you know.”

Ratchet grinned. “Don’t worry about it. Team members look out for each other.”

She smiled back, this time in a manner far more genuine, and proceeded to hold on for dear life.

He gripped a groove in the cell’s metal surface to better maintain his own balance against the swinging and jerking the object made beneath them, Ophelia still panting in barely suppressed panic to his right. He watched the sky go by, the same bleak orange he had encountered on their first visit here and ducked his head whenever a prison security cruiser soared by, most slow and searching. At one point, a trio screamed by with sirens blaring.

What were they doing back here? This was insane!

A dark wall began to encroach in his field of vision and what little light had existed before dimmed further as the prison’s shadow fell over them. When he faced forward, he could see that they had just entered a massive trench, with nothing but an endless sea of cells covering the walls on either side of them. There sure were a lot of criminals out there. And these weren’t even the worst.

Clank tapped him on the shoulder, Ratchet nudging Ophelia’s arm in turn as his eyes were drawn upwards to an approaching break in the ocean of cells. According to Clank’s plan, their point of entry was the cable station for the mobile prison cells.

Pushing himself to his knees, he slid over to one of two supports holding the cell aloft. Eyeing Ophelia, he received an understanding nod in response and began to climb. Even obeying the old adage “don’t look down” wasn’t enough to quell the rising queasiness in his throat whenever the cell swayed beneath him, paired with the knowledge that a fall of hundreds of feet awaited him if he slipped.

As usual, Clank’s timing was perfect, allowing Ratchet just enough time to climb the support and leap onto the platform before the cable fed its way through a narrow channel that would have ground the Lombax’s bones to dust had he been unfortunate enough to be caught in it. Dozens of additional thick cables were being fed through the floor and ceiling. The whole operation appeared to be controlled by a complicated panel of dials and buttons set in the corner. He supposed it all had to start somewhere.

Ophelia stumbled to his side moments later, and the trio entered the prison’s underbelly the only way they could, via a concrete tunnel whose low ceiling was lined with a row of flickering lights and rusting, metal pipes. They didn’t stop until the loud mechanical grinding of the cable feeding mechanism had been reduced to a dull hum in the distance.

“This entire section is the prison’s basement and maintenance corridors. There is little security here, and it will allow you to bypass more of the heavily patrolled levels. It does not lead all the way to the maximum security wing, but it will bring you close.” Clank dropped down from Ratchet’s back and approached a narrow vent set high up in the wall. “This vent should take me to the master control room. If my timing is correct, I should be able to access the prison’s central computer between shifts.”

“I don’t know, Clank. You’ve put on a few pounds since the last time you attempted something like this.” It was a poor attempt at humor. The only response he received was a pained glance from Ophelia.

“Would you be so kind as to help me up?” the little robot asked and held up his arms. Polite to a fault, that didn’t make his tone any less cold. They hadn’t spoken beyond the bare minimum since the Lombax’s outburst.

Ratchet lifted his friend into the vent, most of the robot disappearing from sight except for his legs and back end. He might as well try one more time. “You sure you won’t get lost in there? You might never find your way out again.”

Soon, even the robot’s feet had vanished into the darkness. “I have the prison’s schematics downloaded into my memory. I should have no trouble navigating the vent systems.” His voice echoed back in a manner that only served to make his words sound even more hollow. There was a pause, followed by a soft, “Do be careful.”

“Yeah, we will.” These whispered words likely went unheard, the light shuffling from the vent soon drifting off into silence, signaling Clank’s departure. With a sigh, Ratchet turned to his last remaining comrade. “Well, Ophelia, looks like it’s just you and me.”

“This sure is exciting!” She hefted her borrowed blaster in both hands. “I’ve never infiltrated an enemy stronghold before.”

Ratchet snorted. “Enemy stronghold? You’ve been spending _way_ too much time with Qwark.”

“Well, _any_ amount of time spent with Qwark is too much.” She laughed. “Speaking of the big meathead, I’d feel better about all this if he wasn’t the one giving us directions.”

“I’ve already figured out an easy solution to _that_ problem.”

“Yeah, what?”

“We’ll be completely fine,” he brandished his Combustor, “just as long as we do the _opposite_ of what he says.”

The pair continued down the only path currently available to them. While their trek was largely in silence, faint noises would sometimes reach their location, distorted so from distance and echo that neither were certain as to its source. Both held their respective weapons at the ready, treading lightly for fear that some dastardly trap might be waiting for them. This was Zordoom, after all. He suspected even the employee locker rooms were guarded by lasers when no one was around.

Ratchet’s tail flicked this way and that, and he nearly squeezed the trigger of his pistol when a spume of steam nearly shot him in the face from one of the nearby pipes. He swatted it away, his face hot and wet from the blast.

“Okay, so…are you the glowing blue dot or the green one?” came a voice through his earpiece.

“I already told you earlier, I’m the blue one.”

“And I’m the _purple_ one!” was Ophelia’s own contribution.

“Why don’t _I_ get to be the green one? Clank always gets the good stuff.”

Ratchet sighed. “Qwark, can you see our position?”

“Well, _yeah_ …wait, no, I lost you. Nope, found you again. I have you in my sights, Cannon Fodder.”

“Qwark, would you please not call me that? I thought we agreed we weren’t going to use any code names?”

“Maybe you and Agent Blender did. Covert missions _need_ super secret spy names. And you will address me as Thunder Pecs.”

Ratchet shuddered at the prospect. “All we need are directions, Qwark, that’s all.”

Behind him, Ophelia asked, “Why’s no one using _my_ code name?”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. I’m expecting great things from _you_ , Warrior Goddess.”

There was an audible squeal of delight from Ophelia.

The Lombax said nothing, merely rolling his eyes. This was not a situation where he could lose his focus. He tugged Ophelia to the side when a small maintenance drone appeared from a hallway to the right, its presence only noticeable due to the slight squeaking of its single wheel his keen ears had just managed to detect before it was too late. They remained pressed against the wall, willing themselves to blend into the shadows, until it had passed and was lost from sight around the next corner.

In all honesty, the drone would have likely served as only a minor threat before being eliminated. But they didn’t need to attract any attention. The sound of gunfire could travel far in a place like this.

“Which way, Qwark?” Ratchet whispered, his heart still pounding from their near miss.

“Keep going straight, Cannon…eh, Ratchet.”

The prison’s underbelly was a perplexing labyrinth of tunnels, and even here was not without its security cameras. It hardly seemed necessary, considering any escaped prisoner who managed to wander in would have their work cut out for them finding their way out again. Of course, unless the guards themselves had a thorough understanding of the layout, it wouldn’t be a terrible place to hide, either.

The Lombax and Virditian were led down one path after another, having no choice but to stop at every intersection to wait for the camera to look the other way. The handheld EMP gun they had acquired on Alepa still remained in his arsenal, but he had yet to build up the nerve to use it. They may have been simple, soulless security cameras, but to think that such weaponry had been used on robots, robots like Clank, because they had refused to be used like slaves any longer, it was out of the question to think that _he_ could actually employ such a thing, for good or bad.

They turned left when directed, a light splashing indicating the floor had suddenly become a lot wetter than it was previously and the air taking on a humid chill that made Ratchet shiver. Pipes and valves lined the walls on all sides, many of them continuing upwards into the darkness that had opened up over their heads that could have gone dozens, or maybe even hundreds, of feet high.

Ratchet held out a hand just as a few drops splatted onto his glove.

“I think they’ve got a leak,” Ophelia said, pausing to study her reflection in the puddle at her feet.

“Ya think? Looks like we’re in some sort of pumping station. Better keep moving.”

The splashing of water picked up as Ophelia quickened her pace to keep up with him. “You know, all this dripping gets me thinking…I sure hope I don’t have to go to the bathroom while we’re down here.”

Before he could respond, a new voice chimed in over Ratchet’s earpiece. “Captain Qwark, there is a question I have been meaning to ask you.”

“Yeah, shoot,” Qwark said in a bored monotone. If Ratchet had to guess, he would have to say the superhero was chewing gum.

“You and Dr. Nefarious used to be Galactic Rangers, correct?”

“Yeah, why?”

Ratchet arched his eyebrows. Why, indeed. Glancing over at Ophelia, she merely shrugged in reply, the conversation being received by her, as well.

“I have been wondering if you could tell me,” the robot went on, “what kind of person was he back then?”

There was silence at first, aside from the telltale smacking of chewing gum. “I don’t know. He was real uptight. Couldn’t take a joke. He threw a hissy fit whenever I took something out of his office without asking-”

“No, I meant more along the lines of morality. The Galactic Rangers do not recruit anyone with a criminal background or any degree of mental instability, so I can only guess he must have been a very different person back then. Captain Qwark, can you at least tell me, did he seem…moral?”

“I really couldn’t say. I barely knew the guy.”

“But I thought the two of you worked together for several years.”

“Clank, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Ratchet said, “but how close are you to the control room?”

“Not far, Ratchet. I calculate only eighty meters remain. I will update you on my situation once I arrive.”

Ratchet and Ophelia left the chilling humidity of the pumping station behind, though he found it difficult to restore his concentration when Qwark started to hum to himself on the other line, along with another noise that seemed oddly familiar, and exceedingly out of place.

“Qwark, are you cutting your nails?”

“No…”

“Thunder Pecs, our lives are in your hands!” Ophelia had placed her hands on her hips, even if the one she was addressing could not see her stance. Even so, it did a lot to make her tone that much more intimidating. And Ratchet wasn’t even the one in trouble. “If you get us killed because you’re not paying attention, my ghost is going to drag you down into the deepest depths of the afterlife, where I’ll tickle your feet for all eternity. Do you hear me?”

There was stammering on the other end, during which Ratchet counted his blessings for all the times he had crossed Ophelia and lived to tell the tale.

Come to think of it, Warrior Goddess was a more suitable code name than the Lombax would have previously admitted.

The pair stopped at an intersection, and Ratchet chose to distract the superhero from the Virditian’s threat, if only to quell the man’s stammering. “Okay, which way now, Qwark?” A grin spread over his face. On second thought… “Just remember that I can be pretty vengeful myself.”

When their guide failed to respond right away, Ophelia added, “We’re the blue and purple dots, remember, Blunder Pecs?”

The pair sniggered, the man failing to correct Ophelia’s butchering of his nickname. It was unlikely he hadn’t noticed.

At long last, they received an answer. “It’s…uh, left.”

“You sure?” Ratchet asked.

“Yeah. Positive. Sure.”

They gazed down either passage in turn, each looking even less inviting than the other. When their navigator failed to provide any corrections, they began to head down the hallway they were directed, Ratchet once more pausing to glance back the other way.

He drew in a sharp intake of breath when two doors slammed down on either side of them. Ratchet scrambled for the one blocking the way they had just come, feeling around for some way to release it, while Ophelia settled for karate kicking the other door, with no more success. A nervous laugh could be heard in Ratchet’s headset.

“Oh, wait. Sorry about that. I meant right. _Definitely_ right. I just got the map flipped upside down for a moment.”

The Lombax snarled. “W-we’re trapped! How do we get out?”

Behind him, Ophelia was panting like an enraged bull, her hands clenching into fists. “I’m gonna _kill_ you, Qwark!”

“Password please.”

Ratchet’s head jerked back at the flat, robotic female voice that had just spoken and noticed a small keypad beside the opposite door. “Huh?”

“You are about to access a restricted area. Password please.”

By now, Ophelia was ripping at her hair. “This is exactly what I was talking about! I’m gonna haunt _so_ many people!”

There was silence, and a red light blinked in the keypad’s upper right corner. “Password please.”

The Virditian released a few choice profanities, all of which involved a certain member of their team. Whether or not she was attempting to guess the password seemed doubtful.

“Password please.”

“Look, we don’t have a password.” Ratchet strode over to the keypad and leaned down to get a better look at it, as if he could discern some way of making the computerized voice understand him. “We just made a wrong turn. So, it would be very much appreciated if-”

“If you have forgotten your password-”

Ratchet groaned, and Ophelia shot the keypad.

“-then please provide your email address, and we will send you a link to reset it.”

Ratchet directed a glare at the door barring their exit. Taking Ophelia’s lead, he fired at the door several times, but the shots only left blackened scorch marks on its surface. Using the Negotiator in such an enclosed space hardly seemed a wise choice.

His earlier scowl went slack when a hissing noise came to life overhead. When he looked up, a pale, yellow gas was flowing from a small vent in the ceiling. “They’re using poison gas!” He coughed and placed his O2 Mask over his mouth as the room began to fill with toxic gas.

“Hang in there, you two, I can fix this!” Qwark said, followed by the click of several buttons being pressed. “There, I’ve flipped the map upside down again! Now you’re back in the right room!”

The poison stung his eyes, causing them to tear up. Just through the thickening haze, he caught sight of Ophelia’s form, the Virditian hunched over with her hands pressed to her face. His heart dropped at his oversight, and he pulled off his respirator and held it out to her.

She shook her head, a hoarse cough racking her frame.

“Ophelia, just take it!”

When she continued to refuse his efforts, he forced the respirator onto her face. Ratchet fell to the floor where the gas had yet to reach and began bashing against the door with his wrench as the female voice picked up again in so careless a tone, it tripled the threat in her words. “It is not my fault if you chose a password you could not remember. Prepare to perish. Thank you for using our system.”

Ratchet clamped his eyes shut, his eyes watering as he continued to assault the door, while Ophelia attempted to help by digging her fingers underneath the door in a futile attempt to pull it upwards. Dented though it had become, it remained as steadfast as ever.

By now, the cloud of poison had grown so thick, it was impossible to see more than a few inches in front of him through the sickly yellow haze. Not that it mattered, as his vision had begun to fade to a far more ominous black. His coughing was growing weak when he fell forward, the door previously holding him upright suddenly absent. Through the darkness now enclosing even his mind, Ratchet could feel a hand grab under his arm as Ophelia strained to extricate him from the room.

“Ratchet! Ophelia! Are you all right?”

Once she had managed to drag him out of range, Ophelia fell to the ground beside him and held the respirator to Ratchet’s mouth, the Lombax sucking in fresh air in large gulps.

“Yeah, we’re okay, Clank!” Her voice was hoarse, and she rubbed the tears from her eyes with her free arm.

“I managed to disengage the lock just in time. It says here they employ a very potent toxin that can even enter its victim through their skin if they are exposed for long enough. Are you both certain that you are all right?”

“Yeah, buddy, I’m good.” Ratchet hacked again and held up a weak thumbs up that was more for himself than anyone else.

“Dunderhead tried to kill us,” Ophelia told her communicator.

“Look, I’m sorry!” Qwark said. “People make mistakes!”

“But you make _stupid_ mistakes!”

“It was an accident! What more do you want from me?”

“I have reached the master control room,” Clank continued on over the superhero’s indignant tirade, “and I have located Dr. Nefarious’ cell, A13765X. It appears this particular cell has been designed and reserved specifically for him. It is the most secure cell in the entire prison.” There was a pause, along with the tapping of keys. “Even so, it appears he was able to escape just last week, but was recaptured before he could leave the facility.”

“That’s… unsettling,” Ratchet said, massaging his burning throat with one hand. His vision was still hazy, but slowly returning. “Any sign of his butler? I’m guessing we’d better locate him, too.”

“I have done a full scan of the database, and it does not appear that Lawrence was arrested. I will continue to search for the passcode to Dr. Nefarious’ cell. And Captain Qwark…please be more careful.”

“I’m _trying_! I’m not suited for…sitting in chairs and pressing buttons. I need action! And excitement!”

Ratchet attempted to stand, only managing to straighten the rest of the way thanks to Ophelia looping an arm around his waist. He readjusted his earpiece. If it wasn’t currently his only means of contacting Clank, he would have pulled it out by now. “Why don’t you just focus on doing your job so you don’t lead us into any more death traps, okay?”

“You know, I’m _really_ not liking your tone!”

“Do that again,” Ophelia said, “and I’ll enact the promised ‘tickling torment’ even if you _don’t_ manage to kill us. Understand?”

That was enough to silence the superhero’s complaining.

Ratchet and Ophelia continued onward, eyes still stinging from the poisonous gas. He should’ve known to never trust Qwark with the directions. They would have likely been better off feeling their way along blindfolded. Only a couple more maintenance bots were spotted, only one of which he had to blast when it turned their way without warning. They had to pick up the pace when the distant sound of footsteps indicated a patrol was heading their way to investigate the sudden disturbance.

Ten minutes later, the silence was broken again when Clank’s voice returned over the earpiece. “There may be a slight problem.”

“What is it?”

“Dr. Nefarious’ cell is secured by four passcodes and no fewer than five retinal scans from the highest ranking officers, including the warden himself. With our current resources, there is no feasible way we will be able to open the door to his cell.”

Ratchet remained silent, at a loss. Eventually, his mouth stuttered back into motion. “So…what now?”

Ophelia shrugged. “We kidnap all of them. Easy.”

Clank continued on as if he hadn’t heard Ophelia’s remark. “Fortunately, I had anticipated this very possibility, and that is the other reason why I had you travel through the prison’s basement. You see, if the door to his cell were to lose power for more than a few minutes, the security will be reset to the default settings. Under normal circumstances, however, the backup generators to that grid would be activated automatically, and an alarm would be set off. If you can locate the generator room and disable the generators for that cell block _before_ switching off the power to the maximum security wing, there will be no power left to set off the alarm in that sector. Then I should be able to reset the passcodes to ones we know, provided I can hack into the administrator account, that is.”

“Gotcha.” Ratchet looked around to ensure they were still alone. “But won’t cutting the power let the prisoners out?”

“Fortunately, they have safeguards to prevent this. If there is no power, the doors are permanently locked until power is restored. There should be no danger.”

No danger. Sure. If you say so…

“Okay, Clank, you can count on us.”

* * *

For maximum efficiency, it was decided the best course of action was to split up. Ophelia was assigned the generator room, leaving Ratchet with the task of locating the main breaker room. Fifteen minutes and three wrong turns later, and he had found himself sealed between two doors for the second time that day. This was the final security checkpoint before his destination, and this time, he had help.

“Oh, you again,” came the same female voice from earlier. “Is _this_ where you intended on going? Thank you for attacking one of our security doors, by the way. Now we have to get it replaced. The expense will be taken out of your salary.”

“Do you want the password or not?” Ratchet asked.

The red light on the keypad blinked three times in slow succession. “Password please.”

Clank’s instructions came over the earpiece, Ratchet entering the digits into the keypad as they were fed to him.

“That is correct. You may enter,” the computerized voice said. “Have a nice day.” Both doors slid open in unison, and he strode forward with doubled speed in case she changed her mind.

Just beyond was a small room whose walls were covered in wires, black, blue, red, of varying thicknesses. Some were bundled together, while others were five inches in diameter just on their own. All of it, more or less, meandered their way down to a large breaker box set in the middle of the wall directly across from him.

Ratchet pulled the metal panel open, revealing countless little black switches with labels of varying degrees of legibility. With one finger poised, he scanned the many rooms of the prison on display. Cafeteria. Kitchen. Infirmary.

Hall of Endless Screaming. Huh, he didn’t want to know what happened in _that_ room.

Ah, there it was. Maximum security wing.

He felt a chill settle in the pit of his stomach. This was wrong on so many levels. How had he gotten himself wrangled into this mess?

What was Clank thinking?

The Lombax paced back and forth, one hand meeting the other, fist to open palm. “Ophelia. Ophelia, do you read me? I’m where I need to be. Have you located the generator room yet?”

“Huh? Oh, not yet, Ratchet. Just give me a little longer. Big Green is still having trouble telling his right from his left. I told him about that trick where you make an L with your fingers, but he didn’t seem to get it.”

“All right. Just…hurry up, okay?”

“Hurrying, sure, okay. I’ll be there soon. Warrior Goddess, over and out!”

Ratchet released a long sigh, his movement taking up a more feverish pace from one side of the room to another. Even his tail was whipping this way and that, in an equal state of agitation. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. Breaking Nefarious _out_ of jail? Was he crazy for agreeing to this? Or was the whole universe mad, and he was the only sane one?

“You all right, Clank?” he asked his communicator. “Nothing unusual going on?” When there was no answer, he repeated his friend’s name once more.

“I am fine, Ratchet.”

Ratchet’s back met the nearest wall, and he slid down it until he was sitting on the rough, concrete floor. Silence continued for several minutes before, “Clank…I understand why you didn’t want to bring this up…I mean, this whole…prison rescue plan…” He licked his lips, unsure where he was going with this. “Sure, I was upset, but I would have been _less_ upset if you had talked to me about it first. Okay?”

Clank didn’t respond right away. And when he did finally speak, it was only to say, “I understand.”

He waited, but that appeared to be all the robot had to say. He had tried this before, in the several days they had spent preparing for this whole absurd plan. Clank was not normally the stubborn one. That honor usually went to him. He supposed this was the payback that had long-awaited him after all the times _he_ had been in a bad mood.

Ratchet jolted to attention, not expecting his friend to speak again.

“I am afraid that I cannot speak further right now. Someone is headed for my position. I did not expect this stage of the plan to take so long. I have locked the door, but that will only alert them to the fact that there is an intruder.”

Ratchet darted to his feet, his mind racing for ideas. “Wh-what if I turn off the power? You think that’ll distract them?”

“You cannot shut off the power before Ophelia turns off the correct generator.”

His eyes scanned over the breaker panel, but with little knowledge as to the layout of the prison, it was all but meaningless to him. They might as well not have been labelled at all. “Which section is closest to you?”

“Ratchet, you will set off the alarm. They will know someone is in the main breaker room and send reinforcements. You will be trapped.”

Ratchet could hear a banging sound through his earpiece. “I don’t think I have much choice.”

“It will compromise the mission. You must not-”

“Sorry, buddy, but you’re more important than this mission.” Ratchet grabbed the main power lever and pulled it down. The lights flickered, nearly losing power before the generators kicked on. And then everything turned red as an alarm whined harshly to life high above Ratchet’s head, the distance not enough to prevent the sound from penetrating deep into the prison’s underbelly.

If that didn’t get the guard’s attention, he didn’t know what would.

Ratchet darted for the only entrance, and exit, to the room, but the doors had already slammed down. The room alternated between glowing crimson and deepest blackness, a strobe effect that left him disoriented and sick. The harsh cry of the siren made it hard for him to think, and it, paired with the pounding of his heart, nearly concealed a metallic clambering far off in the distance. But growing louder with a frightening finality.

It was almost enough to hide the hissing of the poison gas being filtered into the room from thin vents overhead.

The only saving grace was the fact that this room was larger and would take longer to fill with the toxic substance. Perhaps there were also more vents to make up for it, but he tried not to think about that. He crouched low to the floor to stay beneath the thickening cloud, Combustor in hand and O2 Mask strapped firmly to his face. He had survived the toxin before. What was more unsettling was the unknown, and that metallic clanking was growing louder.

In between spurts of darkness, the red lights illuminated round holes near the ceiling that had just slid open. Ratchet attempted to regulate his breathing, to clear his mind even as his eyes started to burn and his nose began to fight against the bitter smell of poison.

Small, circular orbs began to flood through those openings, dozens of them dropping down to hover roughly a foot over the ground. Their smooth surfaces broke, splitting to form spindly arms wielding glimmering blades. Unimpressive though their size may have been, Ratchet had to guess it wouldn’t take long for them to slice up anyone in their path.

Okay, this was bad. Maybe he should have listened to Clank.

But he hadn’t any choice in the matter. It was either Clank or him.

So then it had to be him.

Ratchet fired off his pistol, taking out dozens of robots one after another. But even that was not enough to keep up with the sheer speed at which they poured through those holes, overwhelming him as quickly as any approaching tide. Blades sliced his legs, one nicked his tail. Switching to his Pyrocitor made for a more thorough swath of damage that was more effective at keeping them at bay. But even down here, it was not enough to avoid the poison gas that had pervaded every inch of space and soon, every pore in his body.

The blackness one always associates with their demise came sooner than expected. He had always assumed that very same darkness would be paired with silence, and even though the siren had at last ceased its relentless whine, the frantic clashing of metal remained. So this couldn’t be the sweet release of death, after all, or else heaven was no freedom from pain and poison.

Or else he had gone to the _other_ place. Releasing a dangerous criminal from prison was not exactly the most morally upright thing to do. Perhaps the fact that he hadn’t yet succeeded in his mission was irrelevant.

Spouting another plume of fire illuminated the swarm of robots crowding in on him from all sides, their blades catching the light. A quick look back told him the door was open, and that was all the excuse he needed. Ratchet launched himself from the room, through the security checkpoint and back into the maintenance corridors. The Pyrocitor guided his way through the darkness, the robots following twenty feet behind.

The Lombax shut off his weapon at an approaching corner, slamming into it in the resulting darkness, but making the turn just the same. He felt some pipes with his free hand, cold and rough from rust, and slid behind them to hide. He held his breath as the swarm of security drones passed him by to his right, still on their set path, thus far unaware that their victim had eluded them.

Ratchet remained in absolute darkness for several minutes, his muscles taut and ears straining for any sign of his assailants. He dared not utter a word until the sound of slicing blades had long since faded into the distance. “Qwark…generator room.”

Guided by the superhero’s directions, the Lombax proceeded through the tunnels at a light trot. The Pyrocitor served as a sufficient torch for lighting his way, his large ears listening for any sign that the security drones were close. Though it would seem he had indeed managed to escape from those blade-wielding maniacs, such luck paled against the certainty that every guard in the prison had to be looking for them by now.

It wasn’t much longer before the Lombax detected the smell of smoke wafting down a nearby corridor. He didn’t need the superhero to tell him that this was the direction to go. Following the scent, he passed through another security checkpoint, the cold, female voice non-existent without electricity to provide the power required for her cold mannerisms. In the room that followed, row after row of large, cylindrical generators smoked and sparked, sending jolting flashes of white light at irregular intervals. The thrum of static electricity filled the air and made his fur stand on end. And there, in the midst of her destruction, sat Ophelia.

She looked up at his approach, a huge smile overtaking her features. “Oh, Ratchet, there you are! I heard those sirens going off, so I…I don’t know, I kind of panicked and just destroyed all the generators. But…weren’t you supposed to wait for me?” Before he could answer, she stood up and began marching towards him. “Doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re here. I’ve been sitting in the dark for the last…” She trailed off, her earlier smile replaced by a stunned stare as she studied him in the flickering light of his makeshift torch. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding!”

He looked down. Blood stained his pants in irregular spatterings, the long, jagged holes in the fabric only hinting at the true extent of the damage. The earlier adrenaline had all but helped him to forget his injuries. But now that he had been reminded, the sharp sting of multiple deep gashes washed over him in a vengeful wave. He felt dizzy.

He swallowed back a rising nausea and averted his gaze from his crimson-stained clothing. “I’m fine. Really.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he went on, “We can’t worry about that right now. We just need to get Nefarious and get out of here as quickly as we can. I should probably update Clank on what’s going on.”

Ophelia continued to watch him with barely concealed worry as he switched channels on his communicator. “Clank? You there?”

The answer didn’t come right away. “Yes, I am here.”

Ratchet couldn’t help but laugh, relief surging through him that all but eclipsed his newly realized discomfort. There had been a lot of close calls today. It was always good to know that one’s near death experience had served a greater purpose. “Guess I kind of…overreacted, huh? But hey, look at it this way, this should keep the guards busy for a while.” He chuckled again, but received no response. “Clank, you still there, buddy?”

“Ratchet…I told you not to shut off the power before Ophelia reached the generators. Not only could you have gotten yourself killed, but you risked compromising the mission. Now the entire prison is on high alert. They know we are here.”

“Well, I _know_ all that, Clank.” And he had the wounds to prove it. “And I’m sorry. But I didn’t have a choice. We’ll be fine. We’ve done stuff like this before. Remember?”

“You do not seem to understand the severity of the situation.”

Ratchet bit his lip, putting great care into choosing the right words. “I’m not stupid, Clank. I understand _perfectly_ how serious this is. I was just trying to-”

“I am expendable, Ratchet. You are not. I am just a machine. You should not have risked the lives of the organic members of the group for my sake.”

Biting his lip was no longer having the desired effect. He paused just long enough to confirm that he had heard correctly. “E-excuse me? What’s this ‘expendable’ crap?”

When Clank failed to answer the question, he continued, “You know what, Clank, you’re…you’re being ridiculous! What you did…what you’ve gotten us into…it really sucks. But I was trying to be a good friend and let that go. I really was. But if you’re going to keep feeling sorry for yourself just because we had an argument, then forget it! Let me know when you’re done being a baby!”

Ratchet turned off his communicator entirely. He didn’t need to deal with anyone right now. Not Qwark. And most certainly not Clank. His veins felt as if they were filled with ice water, and he gritted his teeth in an effort to redirect his focus elsewhere.

It took him several moments, and a wave from Ophelia, to remember that she was still there.

“Uh, Ratchet…is everything all right? What’s the next thing we’re supposed to do? I thought…”

When he looked up, he noticed that she was fidgeting with her hands. It took great effort to unclench his jaw. “Why don’t you…talk to him about our next move? I’m just…kind of tired right now.”

Ratchet turned, pacing a short distance away before leaning his forehead against the cold wall. Behind him, he could just catch Ophelia’s voice, soft, as if she feared what might happen if she attracted too much of the Lombax’s attention.

“Uh, Clank? Come in, little guy.”

This wasn’t like Clank at all. But two could play at that game. And Ratchet could play it better.

Several minutes later, Ophelia tapped him on the shoulder, jerking him out of his reverie. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Um…Clank said that without power, he can’t hack into the main computer. But he thinks he can power the keypad to Nefarious’ cell, so…he’ll meet up with us there.” When he continued to gnaw on his lip, she asked, “Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” She nudged him once, adding the word “Fur ball?” and a smile.

Ratchet forced himself to smile back. Without a mirror, he had no way of knowing how convincing it really was. “Yeah, fine. Guess we better get going.” Of course he was fine. The only thing that mattered was the mission. Apparently. And it was going fine.

Fine.

The pair fell in beside one another as they exited the generator room, Qwark continuing to feed Ophelia directions through her earpiece. The prison’s maintenance corridors remained dark and silent except for the occasional distant footsteps of guards hurrying to and fro or the jarring metallic clattering of those security bots as they continued to search for their prey. The guards knew they were down here. Their original intent was to get in and get out without their presence being detected. Having utterly failed, all that was left was to avoid being found out. It was one thing that Zordoom was aware there were intruders. What they had to avoid at all costs was having their identities discovered.

Maybe the generators wouldn’t be functioning again any time soon, but it was only a matter of time before power was restored. It was as if they had accomplished nothing. Nothing, aside from saving Clank. And apparently he was an idiot for thinking that was important.

Ophelia pointed out a short flight of metal stairs ahead of them. They picked up the pace, their time in this claustrophobic nightmare of tunnels almost at an end. Once they had reached the top, Ratchet peered out the door leading back into Zordoom’s main facility, his Pyrocitor barely interrupting the darkness beyond. All he understood of their new surroundings came from memory, the increased space hardly a welcome escape from the cramped quarters of the maintenance corridors, for the wide passageways and tall ceilings of the prison proper would only leave them feeling more exposed. At least the power outage would prove to be to their advantage. Which only increased the urgency to reach their destination while they still had the cover of darkness at their disposal.

“Stay close, Ophelia.”

Ratchet could already detect angry grumblings from the inmates demanding to know the reason behind the power outage. As they headed down the hallway to the left, the ruckus grew louder when they approached several floors of cells, the doors to many of them shaking with the occupants’ newfound determination to escape, believing this a prime chance to attempt a breakout.

The pair moved quickly, Ratchet stepping over a tentacle that had crawled through the small, round window in one of the nearest cells, the most freedom its owner would be feeling in a long while, if ever, and made another turn based on Qwark’s directions.

Not only was Zordoom famed for being the most secure prison in both the Solana and Polaris Galaxies combined, it was also infamous for being the cruelest, something to which the government was more than willing to turn a blind eye. Whoever the warden was, it was not known to anyone on the outside, but he had heard stories regarding the fate of anyone who broke the rules that would make even the most hardened criminal’s skin crawl. Whatever punishment Nefarious might have received for his escape attempt, Ratchet was sure he deserved it.

When they reached the large, round door to the maximum security wing, Ratchet’s heartbeat picked up. The most ruthless criminals of two galaxies were through that door. The ones that had been caught anyway. His Decryptor made short work of the security blocking their way, power no doubt provided by a battery that was still dutifully hard at work even while the rest of the facility slept.

Once the door was open, another hallway came into view running perpendicular to theirs. Stepping inside, the door slid shut behind them with a disturbing finality. Here, the cells had no windows, and a new kind of silence engulfed them that made the quiet of the maintenance corridors feel like the greatest din in comparison. Ratchet and Ophelia made their way to cell A13765X and stopped before it.

What if Nefarious just killed them all in a murderous rage? As much as the villain deserved to be here, Ratchet just had a feeling he wouldn’t see it that way.

The pair exchanged glances, and Ratchet nodded. Now wasn’t the time to be stubborn. Ratchet turned his communicator back on. “We’re here at the rendezvous point. Are you-” He was startled when something small dropped down beside him.

Clank brushed dust from his face, averting his gaze just as soon as he had caught the Lombax’s attention. Ratchet couldn’t deny he did the same. “The minimum security required for this cell block is three passcodes.” The robot trailed off. Whatever more he meant to say remained a mystery as he opened the compartment in his chest and pulled out a short cable, not unlike what he had done back on Zeta-13.

The little robot made short work of removing the front panel of the keypad, the buttons remaining attached via a short wire. Attaching his own cable, the keypad lit up, and Clank entered several passcodes in quick succession.

“Done.” He pressed “enter” after the input of the final code and stepped back. After a short delay, there was the hollow bang of something moving aside, followed by a grinding that gradually increased in speed as something rotated within the massive door’s inner workings. No bank in the universe was this secure.

“Come on, Ophelia, help me push.”

Without power, the door would not be opening on its own. The Virditian took up her place beside him, and the pair strained against the massive door. At first, it failed to budge even an inch, and then, as if it had merely required the right amount of persuasion, it slid aside on its railing, revealing itself to be three feet thick and ten feet high. And there, on the other side, was Dr. Nefarious.

The galaxy’s most infamous supervillain knelt in the middle of the room, restrained by nearly a dozen energy coils attached by rings about his neck and limbs that illuminated the room with blue light, their other ends secured by massive steel bolts set high up in the walls and ceiling. Ratchet stepped forward, feeling his fur prickle for the second time that day. There was a buzzing that only hinted at the pure energy emanating from those electric chains. The very air itself thrummed with it.

Nefarious remained slumped even upon their approach, and it was only upon closer inspection that the Lombax took notice of the bruises overtaking the right side of the villain’s face, coloring his normally green skin a dark purple and swelling one eye shut. _That_ was what happened to people who broke rules in Zordoom Prison.

And beneath the persistent hum was something else Ratchet found most unsettling of all, muttered words too incoherent to make out. It was an understatement to say that this was not what they had been expecting.

“You guys better take a look at this.”

Before he had even spoken, the robot was already heading towards the scientist with cautious steps. “Oh, dear.”

There was no break in Nefarious’ mumbled rambling even when Clank waved a hand before his face. “Dr. Nefarious? Dr. Nefarious, we have come to free you. Can you hear me?” In a softer voice, he continued, “It seems he is suffering from some sort of mental episode. I wonder if it was his arrest that brought this on.”

Ratchet crossed his arms. Who really cared? He always knew the guy was nuts.

Ophelia studied the restraints holding the scientist in place. “How do we shut these things off?”

Ratchet produced his Combustor, the energy coils flickering out of existence one after another as he shot them at their anchor point. Clank was attempting to remove the collar around the scientist’s neck when Nefarious looked up as if waking from some long slumber. He swatted the robot away and staggered to his feet, nearly tumbling back to the floor before catching his balance just in time. Even then, he continued to wobble, as if standing was not something he had done in a long time.

The trio retreated a few steps backwards, but the scientist merely stared right through them and rubbed his temple with one hand. The one that remained at his side looked strangely twisted. “I’m not supposed to be here,” he said, his voice so soft, it seemed highly doubtful he was actually speaking to anyone.

“Doctor,” Clank began, taking a step forward, but he was interrupted when Nefarious spoke again.

“I’m not- Now _what_ was I supposed to be doing right now?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Ratchet said. “We need to get him out of here.” This went against everything he believed him. The Lombax’s fingers twitched. He didn’t deserve what they were doing for him.

It sickened him that Nefarious hadn’t been executed by now. Frankly, he would have loved to be the one to pull the trigger.

Ophelia was drawing closer to the scientist, lifting her hand in a half wave. “Hey, Nefarious, old pal…” she tried annunciating her words in a slow, clear manner, like one speaking to a very small child, “We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?”

If Nefarious didn’t cooperate, maybe that’s exactly what he’d do.

He didn’t care what Clank thought. He didn’t _care_.

“Enough nonsense. We’re leaving. Come with us or don’t.” When Nefarious returned to muttering nonsense to himself, Ratchet grabbed him by the arm and started to pull him towards the exit.

They had just entered the hallway beyond when the scientist took note of his existence, the one eye that remained open locking onto the Lombax. He pulled free of Ratchet’s grip and shook an admonishing finger at him. “I have an appointment to get to, you know. I’m probably late by now.”

Ratchet could have smacked him, right then and there.

They all froze when an alarm sounded and the entire surface of the hallway began to alternate between the soulless grey of the metal walls and an angry red. It seemed someone had finally thought to turn the power back on.

“Warning, Prisoner #576623301, Dr. Nefarious, has left his cell,” blared overhead in that same computerized voice from earlier. “Dispatch guards to maximum security cell block Alpha.”

“ _That’s_ what I had forgotten,” Nefarious said, still staring at the ceiling where the noise had originated. Without warning, the scientist lunged for him with an unexpected ferocity. Ratchet attempted to fight him off, but was temporarily stunned when Nefarious slammed him face first into the nearest wall.

This was all the provocation he needed. The Lombax spun around as soon as he was released, nose bleeding and teeth bared. His Combustor was already poised to deliver the finishing blow, only for his snarl to give way to confusion at the Buzz Blade clutched in the scientist’s good hand.

Nefarious yanked back one sleeve and, with savage precision, dug one corner of the blade into his upper forearm. A moment later, he had gouged out a small metal capsule, leaving a bloody wound where it had previously been. It clicked to the floor, the red light on either end continuing to blink slowly. “Think they’d stick a tracking device in me, did they?” he said, throwing the Buzz Blade down with a clatter. “Try finding me now, twits!” Nefarious screamed at the top of his lungs.

Ratchet drew in a calming breath, his arms still shaking. After all they had done to evade detection, and now the guards would be upon them at any moment. Perhaps Clank thought this was all _his_ fault. Because he had disobeyed direct _orders_.

What are you thinking, Ratchet? Not now. Not here.

“We better get going. Clank, get on my back.” When the robot failed to respond, Ratchet grabbed him, only for his friend’s hand to slip from his grasp. He looked back to see what had gone wrong, reaching for the robot once more, but Clank resisted, tugging himself free again with an uncharacteristic boldness.

Their gazes met, a defiant look present in the robot’s optics that made the last ounces of emotion left in the taxed Lombax go numb. He could have stood frozen for hours trying to understand what had just happened, why his best friend was suddenly behaving in so hostile a fashion, but he didn’t have time. In one’s mind, time could stand still, but only temporarily, and never in reality. He couldn’t react to this right now. Only one thing overrode all else.

And that was escape.

Ratchet forced all competing thoughts from his mind, a practice he had perfected after surviving an untold number of dangerous encounters. He hadn’t chosen to be conditioned this way. It had just happened.

“Ophelia, grab Clank!” Taking hold of Nefarious by the arm once again, Ratchet began to yank him down the hallway. They sprinted past cell after cell, and he only released the scientist once he could be sure that he would follow.

Ratchet pressed a finger to his earpiece. “Hey, uh…” He glanced back at Nefarious. Erratic as his behavior was today, he’d hate to see how the villain would react if he knew Qwark was involved in his rescue. Ratchet swallowed what remained of his self-respect. “Thunder Pecs…”

There was a gasp on the other end. “You actually said it! I’m proud of you, Cannon Fodder!”

“You need to get down here right away!” He looked back once more, the distinctive red lights of security drones glimmering in the distance, these ones bigger than the ones he had encountered in the maintenance corridors. These were not simple spheres of death, but fully-equipped battle bots nearly twice his height and bristling with weapons attached to their arms and back. For now, they were all collected outside of Nefarious’ cell where the tracking device had fallen, but he doubted their luck would last much longer. “Hurry!”

While he _could_ , theoretically, fight them off, he couldn’t risk his face being seen. Or else next time they paid Zordoom a visit, it would be as guests, and it would be for life.

“Change of plans!” With no more forewarning, Ophelia grabbed her comrades and tugged them through a chute in the wall nearest them. Everyone tumbled head over heels down a long metal tunnel before Ratchet had the wind knocked from him on both sides, courtesy of the ground rising up to meet them and the scientist landing right on top of him.

His mind continued to spin long after his body had stilled. It was not until he had regained enough of his senses and his eyes had better adjusted to the dim lighting that Ratchet pushed Nefarious off of him and sat upright. He hissed as the cuts in his legs ached in renewed protest, wobbling to his feet when he realized he was kneeling in a massive pile of trash of indeterminate depth.

“We have a new pickup zone,” Clank was speaking into his communicator. “Meet us in Sector G-62.”

“Let’s see them follow us down here!” Ophelia was still out of breath and attempting to stand up when the ground beneath her was anything but stable. She slipped when her already questionable footing was undermined by a crumpling cardboard box beneath her left boot, and she landed back in the trash, laughing as she did so. “Boy, this was fun! I could get used to daring rescue missions!” Stretching her arms out from her sides, she proceeded to make angels in the trash beneath her.

Ratchet wandered over to the nearest wall and leaned against it, arms crossed. He gagged when he forgot to breathe through his mouth and caught a whiff of the refuse-infused air. He just managed to keep himself from being sick by focusing his attention on Clank’s voice.

“Please stay still, Doctor. I will tend to your injuries once we arrive on our ship.”

Who cared about Nefarious? Ratchet was injured, too, and he didn’t see Clank showering _him_ with sympathy.

Maybe Clank just hadn’t noticed yet.

Well, whose fault was _that_?

Ratchet felt his stomach clench as he recalled something Ophelia had said a long time ago on the misnamed planet Myrtle. Kindness would get him killed one day, she had said. He didn’t take a lot of what she said seriously, but sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder whether or not too much kindness was really a good thing. But that described Clank, not him.

Ratchet stiffened when his thoughts were interrupted once more.

“Is it getting hot in here?” Nefarious giggled. “Because it’s certainly not me.” He snorted again, as if laughing at some inside joke.

Unless he was mistaken, it _was_ getting warmer in here. A lot warmer.

“They’ve been following me for weeks. Five weeks. Six weeks. I’ve lost count anymore,” the scientist went on, chuckling once more, as if finding great humor in the whole situation. “Since when was _I_ ever this popular? You think if I just give them my autograph, they’ll leave me alone?”

For reducing the amount of trash in any large facility, there were usually two options. A compactor or an incinerator. Neither option seemed too welcoming, though he was starting to guess which one it was.

“We have to get out of here! The incinerator’s about to come on!” Ratchet turned around, feeling along the wall’s slimy surface for some sign of an exit, sweat beading on his forehead as the room grew hotter still. Ophelia had jumped to her feet, her endeavors to create trash art currently interrupted, while Clank was standing in taut attention with a pensive finger to his chin, his mind surely working for a solution. Meanwhile, Nefarious was attempting to fan himself with some sort of food wrapper.

Ophelia had taken to assisting the Lombax in scanning the walls when Clank spoke up at last. “I believe once the trash has been incinerated, it is released into large ships for transport off-world. Which means there should be a hatch in the center of the floor.”

With a clear goal now in sight, they began digging as quickly as they could, the rapidly climbing temperature an effective means of blocking their minds from questioning the materials they were being forced to wade through and the rancid grime now coating them up to their shoulders.

“Nefarious, help us out, okay?” Ratchet called over his shoulder, pausing just long enough to wipe sweat from his eyes. Even Veldin had never gotten _this_ hot.

On Veldin, he would have gotten some ice cream or a cold drink. Nowadays, there was usually a weapon that could achieve the same purpose.

Ratchet equipped his Frost Cannon and expelled a blanket of ice over the trash and the walls, reversing the sweltering temperatures to one that made him shiver instead. Of course, fire was ice’s greatest weakness, and they resumed their work with renewed vigor as the ice melted all around them, leaving them to dig through lukewarm slush. They located the floor just as Nefarious was wandering over and pried open the exit hatch.

If Qwark was late, they’d have a very long fall to the ocean below. Between that and the budding fire they had just left behind, it was all a matter of how one would prefer to die.

With a collection of screams, the entire group fell through the bottom hatch amidst a shower of smoldering garbage. To Ratchet’s great relief, the ground met them far sooner than he was expecting.

“Looks like I got here just in time, Cannon Fodder! Thunder Pecs never fails!”

Stunned and just a tad winded, Ratchet was unable to dwell upon their incredible luck for much longer when Nefarious shrieked.

“You can’t arrest me again! I haven’t even done anything recently! I think.”

The hatch in the roof of the ship’s rear compartment slid open, and Ratchet shoved Nefarious inside. “Believe me, you’ll be thanking us later!” The Lombax dropped in after him, followed by Clank and Ophelia.

“We’re all in! Let’s get out of here!” Ratchet yelled as the hatch slid shut overhead.

“Sure thing, Cannon Fodder!” Qwark said from the cockpit in the most heroic manner he knew. “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy ride!”

They were all sent reeling when the ship jerked forward in a sudden burst of speed. It shuddered when their port side collided with something.

“Sorry!” Qwark yelled just as they bumped into something else. “Sorry again! My bad!”

Ratchet clutched the wall for dear life. Beside him, Clank had resorted to holding onto Ophelia’s leg, while Nefarious gave up entirely and slunk down in the corner opposite them where falling was no longer a possibility. A short, but nauseating, flight later, and they had returned at last to the smooth flying of open space.

Their attention was dragged across the room when Nefarious began humming softly to himself. Ophelia leaned in closer to Ratchet and whispered, “Is it just me, or is this getting kind of weird?”

“It’s _been_ weird.”

Clank sighed. “I am certain it will pass. For now, I should probably see what I can do about his injuries.”

Ratchet rolled his eyes. “I don’t see the point of all this sympathy. He’s probably faking it anyway.”

Clank glanced over at him, but said nothing. Ratchet headed into the cockpit, not about to spend another second in the supervillain’s presence. The best he could do right now was pretend this wasn’t really happening.

Qwark looked back at the Lombax’s approach. “Mission accomplished, Cannon Fodder!” Gesturing to the seat beside him, he added, “Oh, and look who I picked up!”

The copilot seat spun to reveal the portly form of none other than Nefarious’ butler, Lawrence. “I _would_ have helped, but I saw no reason to dirty my hands with a prison break when you three saw fit to do the job for me.” With his usual haughty air, the robot took to studying Ratchet’s appearance, the Lombax just now remembering that he was covered in filth.

Before the robot could make any comment, Ophelia popped into the room, bandages in tow. “Ratchet, I was thinking you could use… Hey, Lawrence, fancy seeing _you_ here.” She threw her arms up in the air in celebration. “Looks like we’re all one big team again!”

Qwark shot a thumbs up Ophelia’s way. “Mission accomplished, Warrior Goddess!”

“Right back atcha, Thunder Pecs!”

Lawrence stood from his seat and folded his hands over his stomach. “I suppose I had better check on my…employer. I doubt he enjoyed his time in prison very much. He never was one for sitting still.”

“I don’t get it. Nefarious is horrible to you,” Ratchet said as the robot headed past him on his way to the ship’s rear compartment. “Why’d you come back?”

Lawrence paused, eyeing him with half-lidded optics. “I hardly see how that is any of your business.” He looked Ratchet up and down one final time with barely hidden disdain before leaving the cockpit without another word.

“Hey, Ratchet, come over here.”

“What?”

Ophelia patted the copilot seat. “Come over here and sit down.”

“Why?”

“Just do it!”

Ratchet obliged, understanding settling in when he remembered the bandages she had brought from the back room. “You really don’t have-”

His protest was ignored when Ophelia knelt down, rolling up one of his pant legs to reveal several fresh gashes in Ratchet’s leg. Dried blood caked his fur from the knee down, but even that wasn’t enough to hide the fact that his cuts had grown raw and inflamed. He looked away.

Producing a bottle of disinfectant, Ratchet winced when she dabbed some on one of his wounds with a square of gauze, causing him to instinctively pull his leg away. “Just be still and let me do this.” She turned a stern glare in Qwark’s direction when she caught the superhero eyeing Ratchet’s injuries with a disturbed grimace. “Tickling torment,” was all she had to say to get the man to return his attention to flying the ship.

No one spoke as Ophelia worked quietly to clean his wounds, after which she proceeded to bandage them tightly, the initial sting of his injuries fading to a dull throb. Ratchet leaned back in his seat. He clearly wasn’t getting out of this, so he might as well make himself comfortable.

“Just a few months ago, I would have never guessed I’d be in the middle of a prison break.” She glanced up and smiled. “Pretty hardcore, huh?”

Ratchet shrugged. “You think _that’s_ something? This was actually my second time.”

This was enough to draw her focus upwards. “Really? Who was the first person you broke out of jail?”

“Talwyn. She had been locked up because she opposed Tachyon.”

“Talwyn? Oh, right, Clank mentioned her earlier, didn’t he? So…Talwyn’s a _girl_ , huh?” Ophelia smirked. “You must really like her if you’d break her out of jail.”

“Oh, you betcha. They’ve gone on all kinds of adventures together.” Qwark looked over and winked. “And one of those times was without Clank…”

Ratchet felt his face grow hot. “Stop it! She’s a friend. That’s all.”

“Just a friend, huh? Well, would you break _me_ out of jail?” Ophelia asked, that sly grin from earlier still present.

Cheeks still warm, the Lombax thought this over. “It depends on what you did.”

This seemed to satisfy her. Ophelia barked out a single laugh and returned to her work. It wasn’t long before she had finished bandaging his right leg and was turning her attention to the other one.

What would Talwyn think if she found out? He suspected she would probably smack him upside the head and ask him what the heck he had been thinking. She was pretty blunt sometimes. It was probably good for him. No one could ever know they had just broken the worst criminal of all time out of prison. Luckily, no one with the knowledge wished to let that secret slip any more than he did.

He knew one thing, though. He was not watching the news tomorrow.


	26. Help Yourself to a Heaping Slice of Guilt

The last time Ratchet ever had the need to get rid of evidence was when he was nine-years-old and still living in Veldin Orphanage. The Veld woman who ran the place had a glass figure of a ballerina that she cherished just a bit less than the children under her care. It was worth absolutely nothing, not in bolts anyway, but it had been bestowed upon her by her elder sister, who had passed away not long later, the last family member she had left. At the time, Ratchet had believed that this loss had made her an orphan, too. He just didn’t realize you couldn’t be an orphan when you were her age. He never knew how old she was, but he had always guessed that, had he a grandmother, she would be about the right age for it.

One morning, the young Lombax had finished building a model airplane, the old-fashioned type with the propeller that he had read people used to fly hundreds of years ago, from cardboard and some old, bent utensils his caregiver had disposed of just last week. Everyone had gone outside to help take care of the hens. Everyone, that is, except him.

His humble invention, built with an ease that hinted at the Lombax blood he was not yet aware he even had, flew well enough at first. It stayed airborne for a good fifteen minutes before it clipped one wing against the wall. It spun out of control, and before he knew it, her precious figurine had fallen to the ground.

He had hidden the pieces under his pillow until bedtime, and once everyone was asleep, he buried the remains out in the yard. And even though, at the time, he had thought himself safe, he couldn’t force sleep to come, no matter how hard he tried.

That was how she had known it was him, he supposed. The guilt must have been so plain on his face. She had spanked its final resting place out of him, and as much as he had cried at the time, the sense of relief afterward once the secret had been freed from him was undeniable.

This time, he had done something far worse than break a decorative piece of glass. This time, punishment would be much more severe.

This time, he would be held accountable. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

With Qwark and Ophelia still asleep, Ratchet headed to the bridge to begin the vile task of removing yesterday’s flight records from the Phoenix’s main computer. There was a reason these kinds of things were recorded. If everyone in the galaxy was trustworthy, then you could just take their word for it.

Ratchet scoured every corner of the Phoenix’s logs to ensure that no evidence remained of their fateful outing. No record of their departure or return, no video footage. Nothing. He couldn’t risk overlooking one single, incriminating detail. That’s how people got caught. He had seen enough crime shows to know it was the small things that got you.

Even once he had wiped clean all evidence he could find and proceeded to double and triple check his work for another hour just to make sure, he still wasn’t satisfied. But there were only so many times he could look before he had to give up. He probably wouldn’t ever find relief until he _was_ caught.

It was at this time the dreaded call came.

“Incoming call from President Phironix. Accept or deny?” came the monotone voice of the ship’s computer.

Ratchet’s heartbeat went into overdrive at this news. The only positive thing that came to mind about this situation was that he hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. “Uh...just hang on…” He started hitting keys at random, his mind suddenly drawing a blank as to how to return to a more innocent looking screen on the computer. “O-okay, I’m ready. Accept the call.”

He straightened to attention when Sasha’s face appeared before him on the main screen.

“Hey, uh, Sasha, how’s…uh…how are…stuff?” Ugh, that was awful. Ratchet tried to make up for his botched grammar with a smile, but it went slack at her expression.

“Ratchet, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Dr. Nefarious was broken out of Zordoom Prison yesterday evening.”

“No, uh, I haven’t...heard anything about that.” He started scratching vigorously at a randomly selected spot on his head. “You think his butler probably did it?”

“That’s what’s strange. No one saw who was responsible, but the officials there believe it was actually _several_ people who helped him escape. They heard multiple voices, and there seemed to be another person responsible for piloting their getaway ship. I know this...mystery person you’re after is just one man, but do you think he could somehow be involved? He _did_ attempt to kidnap Nefarious several months back.”

Several people, huh? Had they really been that clumsy? “I-I don’t know, Sasha. We still have our work cut out for us just _tracking_ this person.” Ratchet pulled his arm back down to his side, eye contact becoming increasingly difficult the longer the conversation dragged on. “If we find out anything, we’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Ratchet. Considering you and Clank have stopped Dr. Nefarious multiple times in the past, you would be in the most danger now that he’s free again. It seemed prudent you find out first.”

Finding no words, Ratchet nodded.

“Even though we have no camera footage, there may still be enough evidence to identify who is responsible. They say it was an official Galactic Ranger transport model GX-713 that was seen fleeing the scene. It may have simply been stolen, but we aren’t ruling out any possibilities.” They may have covered up any distinguishing serial numbers that would lead anyone investigating the matter straight to the Phoenix, but that was the extent of it. It wouldn’t take too much digging to figure out which starships carried that model, and then it would only be a matter of time before it was traced back to them.

Ratchet forced his attention back to the conversation at hand, even as his panicked mind made frantic guesses as to how little time they surely had left. Any day now. Any…just focus, Ratchet. Focus.

“Right. Well, uh, things are going well on our end. We’re...closer to finding out what this person wants. At least, we found some historical records dating back to before the black hole was formed, and Clank’s been...doing research into it….” He laughed. “But hey, I’ve talked about enough, haven’t I?”

Sasha smiled back, but it was clear she wasn’t quite feeling it. “Are you okay? You just seem a little…” she tilted her head to the side, one eye squinted, as if she was examining a particularly odd specimen of bacteria in a microscope, “strange.”

Ratchet’s forced grin fell as he tried to form a more neutral expression. “Sure, everything’s fine. It’s just...early. Qwark snores a lot, and…” He coughed. “I just didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all. Hero’s work never ends, am I right?”

She made a quiet laugh in her throat. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. Don’t work yourself too hard. And good luck.”

“Yeah, you too with...your thing.”

President Phironix nodded her farewell to him before the screen blinked out to static, a moment later returning to the familiar Galactic Ranger emblem set against a dark blue backdrop. Oh, the scolding he would have gotten from the orphanage caregiver if she could see him now.

* * *

Now that his work on the bridge was complete, it was time to hunt down Qwark and Ophelia for help in finishing up their final task. He had found the pair strolling through the corridor a short while later, Qwark with a half-eaten donut in one hand and a glass of milk in the other, Ophelia sipping away at some chocolate milk with a pink and white-striped silly straw. Ratchet would have very well slapped the pastry from the superhero’s hand had Qwark not already dropped it upon seeing the Lombax’s expression. And to Ophelia’s own credit, his mere approach was sufficient in stopping her from blowing any further milk bubbles.

Though Ratchet had kicked the donut down the hallway when its owner had reached down to retrieve it, neither of his companions could be coaxed into giving up their respective beverages, which they had proceeded to use as an excuse to take short, but frequent, breaks from their work.

Three hours later, and they were still hard at work scraping away the new paint job from the tampered transport vessel, the fumes from the chemical paint stripper causing Ratchet’s throat to burn whenever he made the mistake of breathing through his mouth. If they were sprung with a surprise inspection, an unmarked ship would certainly arouse suspicion.

“This is going to take all day,” Qwark said, his spot on the ship’s rear fixed with a sullen stare now that Ratchet had been left with no choice but to down what remained of the superhero’s milk in one gulp. There would be no more distractions. If Ratchet had to treat his teammate like an unruly student being stared down by a hawk-eyed schoolteacher, then so be it.

He had tried to do the same to Ophelia, but had thought better of it when she hissed at him.

“I don’t like this anymore than you do, Qwark. We’ll finish quicker if you just focus.”

“It’s not that bad. This is great bonding time,” Ophelia said from the ship’s port side and proceeded to suck on her straw, even though her cup had been empty for the last ten minutes, creating a hollow sucking sound that set Ratchet’s teeth on edge.

From the starboard side, Ratchet couldn’t exactly see what Ophelia was doing right now. But he doubted it was anything productive.

“I can’t focus without my daily glass of milk, Ratchet. It builds strong bones. Heroes need bones; otherwise they’ll be floppy and useless.”

“My bones are like steel,” was Ophelia’s own contribution. “Steel _wishes_ it was as strong as my bones.”

The Lombax peered around the corner at the superhero’s end of the ship. “You want to go to prison, huh, Qwark? You want Sasha to find out what we did?”

“What’s with you and Sasha? All morning, it’s been Sasha this and Sasha that. Do you have a thing for her or something?” Qwark barked a single, humorless laugh and returned to rubbing large circles into the ship’s surface with an old cloth. “Because believe me, us Galactic Presidents, former ones included, are _way_ out of your league.”

Ratchet returned to his own work, scrubbing paint stripper into the transport’s surface with twice the force as before. “I don’t think you want to mess with me right now, Qwark.”

“ _Someone’s_ been super crabby today.” Ophelia began to suck on her straw again, the sound cutting off suddenly when she continued, “I need to wash my cup. I’ll be right back.”

Ratchet’s open palm met the side of the ship with a loud slap. “You can do that later, Ophelia!”

“If I wait until later, the milk will dry, and it will never wash out right! What you’re asking me to do is pure negligence, Ratchet!”

“You’re just being ridiculous-”

Ophelia appeared from around the corner to shake her empty cup at him in utter outrage. “The sacred law of the kitchen is being thrown out the window in favor of absolute and utter chaos, where the law of the land is dirty dishes and crumbs everywhere! Is this the universe you want to live in?”

Ratchet bit back a swore, the only thing left after he had censored his thoughts a mere, “Fine, just go! But be quick about it, okay?”

“All right, be back in a jiffy! Toodles!” With her victory now secure, Ophelia skipped out of the room, empty cup in tow, silly straw clattering within.

What followed was a brief moment of silence as Ophelia’s retreating footsteps faded into the distance, inevitably broken when Qwark saw fit to speak up once more. And just when the Lombax was starting to calm his already frayed nerves. “Ophelia’s right. You _have_ been pretty cranky today, Ratchet.”

“I have not-” Ratchet growled and scrubbed harder when the last digit in the ship’s serial number came into view. “Look, I’m just...I-I don’t get why I seem to be the only one with a problem with what we’re doing.”

He heard Qwark scoff. “What do you think I’ve been complaining about this whole time?”

“Not about the ship, about Nefarious! We just let one of the worst criminals of all time out of jail, and yet no one else seems particularly bothered. I find you two eating breakfast, and I’m sure Clank’s nursing him back to health, along with that snotty butler of his.” Two more digits appeared beneath the flaking remnants of new paint.

“I know I agreed to the whole thing,” the Lombax went on, “and I normally respect Clank’s judgement, but now I realize I should have stopped this. I know it’s too late now, but we don’t need Nefarious’ help. And if...if he refuses to work with us…” His arm went still, and he swallowed hard. “I don’t care what Clank says. If I have to force him, if I...if I have to _hurt_ him to get him to cooperate, then I will. I’m tired of doing things the...the hero’s way. I’ve tried it for years, and it doesn’t work.”

Ratchet’s chest felt tight and cold. He wasn’t exactly sure where these words had come from, but sure enough, he couldn’t claim them as anything less than his own. He loosened his jaw, tasting blood where he had bitten down on his lower lip.

Qwark appeared in the corner of Ratchet’s peripheral vision, eyes wide and his steps cautious. When he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically soft. “Ratchet, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that way before.”

When Ratchet’s eyes met the superhero’s, his gaze dropped to the floor. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m just thinking more clearly now. Clank...he’s too... I know how he is. We’ve talked about this before, and…he thinks he can fix Nefarious. He thinks he might change, but that’s not going to happen. Why’s he being so nice to him, Qwark? Nefarious is as evil as they come. He doesn’t deserve the same courtesy as everyone else. He’s killed millions of people without a second thought, as if their lives were worth nothing. If I killed him now, don’t tell me the universe wouldn’t be a better place. He’s never going to change, and...even if he did, he has...a thousand lifetimes of evil to make up for.”

Captain Qwark eased himself down onto a nearby bench, its form dwarfed by his massive bulk. “I get what you’re saying, Ratchet. Believe me, I do. But...we all have a dark side, you know. I mean, look at me. I know I’m a ruggedly handsome defender of justice, but even _I_ betrayed the entire galaxy once. And for what? Money, plain and simple. You can’t allow your anger to get the better of you. I’ve let greed cloud _my_ judgement, and I’ve lived to regret it.”

“I know no one’s perfect, but you were never as bad as Nefarious.” Ratchet let his back rest against the side of the ship. “And you changed. You’re back on our side now.”

Qwark chuckled. “Sides, huh? What are ‘sides’ but a bunch of people disagreeing over what’s right and wrong?” The superhero’s face grew serious, his eyebrows drawing low. “Let me tell you something, Ratchet,” he shook one thick finger at the Lombax, “Nefarious wasn’t always bad. You remember what Clank asked me yesterday, about when Nefarious and I were Galactic Rangers?”

“Qwark, I really don’t care about-”

“Let me finish.” Qwark rested his chin on one fist. “It got me thinking, about the role I played in Nefarious’ spiral into villainy. I got so caught up in my quest for fame and popularity, I forgot that there were other people who helped me get to where I was. I was so busy treating him like the least valuable member of the team, I didn’t realize I was pushing him over the edge until it was too late. I was blind, Ratchet. Blinded by my own pride.”

“Okay, you know what, if you really don’t want to clean up the ship, that’s fine. But you don’t need to make up ridiculous stories just to waste time.”

Qwark directed a stern frown at him. “You think I’m making this up, huh? Well, let me tell you something, mister. I have a doozy of a story that I know you’re going to want to hear.”

Ratchet merely arched an unamused eyebrow at him and crossed his arms. “I really doubt that, Qwark-”

“No, no. I mean it. Now sit. Down.”

Ratchet rolled his eyes in so exaggerated a manner, his whole body seemed to join in the gesture. Throwing the chemical-soaked rag he had been using to scrub the ship to the floor, he shuffled forward and plopped down next to the superhero. “Fine, Qwark. Enlighten me.”

The superhero’s eyes narrowed further at the obvious note of sarcasm in the other’s voice. “This may surprise you, my furry Lombax friend, but during my time as a Galactic Ranger, I was not always completely honest with the public about the extent of my do-goodery. Sure, I had vanquished many a foul villain that wished to...befoul our fair galaxy, but not all of my exploits were entirely my doing, nor were all the threats, uh...let’s just say, some of them may, or may not, have been my fault.

“One night, I had decided to stay late at Galactic Ranger HQ. Get in more training with the newly upgraded Swingshot. Famished from a hard evening’s workout, I snuck into Nefarious’ office to use his computer. Normally he threw a big hissy fit if anyone went in there when he wasn’t around. I mean, talk about uptight. He liked everything just so. Who _cares_ if I got crumbs in the keys every now and then? Just brush them off, and you’re good to-”

Ratchet continued to stare at a spot chosen at random on the floor, arms hung limply across his knees. “Would you just get to the point?”

“Right, well, what was intended as a harmless search on the holonet for the phone number to a local pizza delivery place resulted in disaster when I _may_ have accidentally launched...a few dozen interplanetary warheads at a Tyhrranoid enemy fleet we were currently at a standstill with. I mean, it wasn’t _really_ my fault. Who doesn’t leave the icon for the holonet on their desktop, am I right?” Qwark nudged Ratchet with his elbow, causing the Lombax to wobble, one side of his lip curling back into a snarl.

“Okay, well,” Qwark laughed and scratched the back of his neck, “needless to say, I...uh, stayed completely calm after that, let my years of combat experience keep me level headed. But I couldn’t figure out how to stop the missiles. If those puppies were to reach the Tyhrranoids…hoo boy, we’d be in for it.

“By then, it was nearing midnight, and the only person I could think of who could fix this was Nefarious. I called him down to HQ and explained the situation. It took him until nearly sunrise to remotely reroute all of the missiles into a harmless, uninhabited moon orbiting Aridia and manipulate the computer’s records so there was no evidence that two dozen missiles had just gone missing.”

By now, Qwark’s head was bowed and his voice had drawn low, as if his tale had formed a literal weight upon his massive shoulders. “You see, the problem with that story is…I never thanked him. To be honest, I just slept on the couch in the lounge while he spent the night cleaning up _my_ mess. I think the first thing I said to him once he told me that everything had been fixed was that he was an even bigger nerd than I realized.” Qwark forced a laugh, but it held not an ounce of sincerity.

“I would have lost my job if news of my screw-up had ever gotten out. And yet, Nefarious never breathed a word of it to anyone. Looking back, he was the most dependable Ranger we ever had. I’m...I’m sorry I drove him away.” Qwark sighed. “And what’s worse, I don’t even remember his name. We worked together for two years, protecting the galaxy from danger, and...I don’t even remember.”

Ratchet laughed, a reaction that happened with such little warning, even _he_ was a bit surprised by it. But it was all so ridiculous. Qwark had been so solemn throughout the whole thing. As if he honestly believed Ratchet would fall for this pack of lies. “ _Nefarious_ did this. _Dr._ Nefarious?”

Qwark’s head moved up and down in a slow nod.

The Lombax stood. “Sorry, Qwark, but I’m not buying it.”

“Ratchet…”

“Provided this…story of yours is even true, you’re not responsible for his actions, only he is. Nefarious has caused so much suffering and destruction, and yet we’re _still_ supposed to show him mercy? He’s never shown anyone else a fraction of that courtesy.” Ratchet threw his arms open wide. “Heck, we’re even making excuses for him now!” He shook his head, additional chuckles escaping him that hardly sounded like his own. “There’s...there’s just no justice to it. It’s not fair that heroes can’t play by the same rules as the villains.”

“I know people hate hearing this, but the universe is unfair. You can’t go trying to right it. The way I treated Nefarious was unfair and look what happened. When people think the universe has screwed them over and they try to even the score, you get people like him. I don’t want you sharing his fate, Ratchet.”

“So I’m supposed to just sit back and take it?” Ratchet released a cold laugh that held no humor and began to walk away, the end of his tail flicking from side to side. “You know what, I’m done. You and Ophelia finish cleaning up the ship. You guys were so quick to agree with Clank, you better be willing to pay the price.”

* * *

Clank had been with Dr. Nefarious since their arrival in the Phoenix sick bay late yesterday evening. During that time, he had worked tirelessly to evaluate the nature of the scientist’s injuries and provide the necessary treatment. An oblique fracture of the scaphoid and trapezium bones of the wrist was bandaged, cuts disinfected, his injuries no doubt punishment for his escape attempt. There were no cranial injuries to explain the man’s psychosis, so Clank had to merely assume it had been brought on by great stress. He would imagine imprisonment would have such an effect on a person, whether or not they had earned it.

As expected, Lawrence remained at Nefarious’ side, no concern evident upon his ever-stoic features, despite his employer’s physical state and utter inability to comprehend what was going on around him. Clank was well aware that the two were not particularly fond of each other, and Lawrence had brushed aside his questioning of the supervillain’s current stupor with the simple statement that “he does this sometimes”.

Even so, the little robot couldn’t say that witnessing such behavior in his own friends would leave him so unperturbed. It would cause him great distress indeed if Ratchet started acting so strangely.

It bothered him now, and his friend was not even showing any signs of mental instability.

Perhaps that was even more worrisome.

As Clank worked, Lawrence had remained, on the most part, silent, save for quiet reassurances when his employer struggled against Clank’s efforts to tend to his injuries, his mannerisms curiously akin to a caregiver comforting a small child. It was not until 6:38:23 in the morning, Central Solarian Time, that Lawrence finally saw fit to address Clank directly.

“While this has all been very much appreciated,” the butler began, eyeing the other robot with a wariness that was not missed, “I have to ask, _why_ exactly have you decided to free my employer from prison? After all your efforts to put him there, this seems quite counterproductive.”

Clank peered over the tablet he was reviewing, to which was transmitted the scientist’s vitals via several thin cables. He didn’t answer right away, instead choosing his words with care. These two _were_ their former enemies, after all. At least, he hoped “former” was the correct word to use. “We need Dr. Nefarious’ help,” was all he could think to say. More would have to come later, once he had sorted through what details were necessary and which should be left out.

“Well, I figured as much.” Lawrence sighed. “Then I have to assume you’ve had no luck tracking down our shared enemy?”

Clank shook his head. “We have not.” He paused, his gaze studying the scientist before him, currently asleep. As unthreatening as he appeared at the moment, he was one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. What they had done…what he had advocated, it was grossly irresponsible. But he had weighed the options, and he hoped it would be a gamble that would pay off.

“I will be honest with you,” the smaller robot continued, “as our…enemies, I am unsure how wise it would be to reveal to you every detail of our plan until I am confident where you both stand in this matter. But I assure you, if Dr. Nefarious believes he can leave and seek vengeance on his own, he will be sorely mistaken. This person has proven virtually impossible to find, hence the drastic measures we have been forced to take. But we have a plan that should render his efforts obsolete, and…if we are lucky, draw him to the surface. And in order to do that, we need Dr. Nefarious’ intelligence.”

Had Lawrence a functioning nose, it was probable he would have snorted at that statement. “Are you _sure_ you have the right person?”

The way he muttered that question, Clank found it doubtful it was a query that needed answering. “Would it be possible to set aside our differences and become allies?”

The taller robot shrugged. “It hardly matters to me. I never had a personal grudge against any of you myself. Just following orders, I’m sure you understand.” Lawrence eyed the scientist with half-lidded optics. “Once my employer has regained control of his senses, or what little he has anyway, I’ll see what I can do. As stubborn as he is, he can be quite reasonable when vengeance is involved.”

* * *

Breaking his own wrist had certainly taken some doing. As a robot, removing and reattaching limbs was a painless process, but as a squishy, it seemed as if _everything_ hurt if you weren’t careful. Up until that moment, he had forgotten what real pain was like. It was probably for the best, or else he would have had less willpower when it came to inflicting it upon himself.

His plan had worked at first. Once his left hand had been reduced to a misshapen mess, he had been able to remove the handcuffs that had kept him confined to a mere corner of his cell. The hardest part of the process had been not screaming. The pain had been unbearable, it really had, but it was better than an eternity spent in prison.

The sheer personal agony his plan required had proven pointless in the end, as he had still been recaptured an hour later somewhere in the maze of dimly lit passageways comprising the prison’s underbelly. It was a shame he hadn’t at least gotten the chance to annihilate _someone_ before he was dragged off to a room whose rusted nameplate stated ominously “Reconditioning C-2”.

Unless you were one of the most infamous criminals in the galaxy, it was more than likely that your wildest nightmares wouldn’t even come close to the reality of what went on in Zordoom’s infamous Reconditioning Cells. He _was_ one of the galaxy’s worst criminals, and he still couldn’t have prepared himself for the horrors they had in store for him.

And he always liked to think he had a pretty depraved mind.

He had no idea how many days had passed since then, but in recent times, he had become decidedly aware of two more presences within his cell, a very small one and a bigger one. Where once there was silence, utter, mind-numbing silence, voices swirled overhead, competing with the ones that had slowly begun to invade his own mind. Voices that found it quite amusing to repeat to him his many failings in mocking tones that sounded far too familiar for his own liking. He tried and tried to recall the instances in which he surely must have succeeded in life, but he could find so few that mattered. None of them had any lasting impact.

Triumphs were quickly forgotten, failings met with a life-sentence in prion that could never be revoked.

It made him wonder why anyone ever bothered trying.

To add to the list of unexplained occurrences, his cell seemed brighter now, the blur of shapes around him strangely familiar, but entirely foreign. As far as he could reason, this was not his cell anymore. Whatever sick mind game they were trying to pull on him now, all he could say with any real certainty was that he was _not_ in the mood to figure it out at the moment. He was so over prison. And how many more years did he have left?

That was one of the few benefits of being a squishy again. Unlike robots, organics at least had the courtesy of dying eventually.

Though the smaller form had recently left, the larger one was still here. And as much as he tried to ignore it, it was not going away. And it kept calling him “sir”. How insufferably polite. He had a butler like that once. Except he wasn’t all that polite because he said snotty things behind his back, as if he was too dimwitted to notice. So this was nothing like him. This was more like the smaller one.

His butler had been with him longer than anyone, had stood by his side through thick and thin when everyone else had abandoned him at the slightest excuse. And his butler hated him. How pathetic was that?

“It would appear that one of Captain Qwark’s movies is on holovision tonight. Critics are calling it a ‘masterpiece’.” Somehow, these words had managed to infiltrate the mist swirling within his mind. The voice went on, “Oh, I see, ‘a masterpiece in futility and an abomination against all that is still decent and good in the universe’. Well…that makes a lot more sense.”

That voice _was_ awfully familiar.

Though if he woke up now, he was still living in a world where Qwark existed.

“If you don’t snap out of this soon, sir, then I might just make you watch it. Perhaps I’ll get lucky, and it will send _me_ into a coma, as well.”

Blinking the fog from his vision, Dr. Nefarious scanned his surroundings from where he lay atop what he could only assume was some sort of hard and unwelcoming cot. It took only a moment to catch sight of Lawrence sitting on the bed next to him, TV guide open in his hands. According to the cover, he had recently missed the finale of season 73 of _Lance and Janice_ , in which it was explained that Janice’s strange behavior all season long was thanks to possession by the spirit of a long-dead pirate captain from centuries past. _Really_? Whoever saw fit to spoil something that big right on the cover should seriously be shot.

“Lawrence? Where the heck are we?” Nefarious’ words were mumbled, and his voice felt hoarse. He wasn’t sure why.

The robot set the TV guide aside. “Why, sir, I should think you would have recognized your old workplace. We’re in the Phoenix sick bay. In case you hadn’t noticed, you’ve been rather…indisposed as of late.”

Right, he _had_ worked here all those years ago, back when he was still a Ranger. Of course, he had spent most of his time in the lab, but an occasional visit to the sick bay wasn’t exactly unheard of when you spent all your time developing dangerous gadgets and weaponry. That Buzz Blade mishap had been a particularly…memorable one.

But just because he was beginning to remember this place, that didn’t mean that any of this was adding up. Nefarious attempted to sit upright, hissing in pain when he made the mistake of using his recently broken wrist.

Lawrence was at his side at a moment’s notice, one arm stretching around his back to help him up. Yes, Lawrence had been his butler for a good many years now. Why he continued to return, time and time again, when he had been given plenty of chances to leave, he had no idea.

It was…comforting, he had to admit.

Or maybe he just wasn’t thinking straight. Since when did the greatest supervillain in the universe need anyone? It was convenient. That was all.

“Funnily enough, it was actually our enemies who broke you out of prison and brought us here,” Lawrence went on, partially answering the question the scientist had thus far left unspoken. “Ratchet and Clank, to be more precise. You have a _lot_ of enemies, sir.”

“Those two morons, huh?” Nefarious rubbed his head, groaning at the headache that had formed just as soon as he had sat up. “I’ve finally lost it, haven’t I?”

It was not lost on him that there was a very obvious lack of an answer to _that_ question.

“Apparently, they need our help, sir. I’m sure you recall the person who kidnapped you?”

They had reruns of _Lance and Janice_ all the time. Maybe he could still catch the season finale, after all. Spoilers, notwithstanding. Who signed off on that cover? Because he’d really like to have a…brief word with them. “Huh?”

Lawrence sighed. “Sir, please listen, this is quite important. Whoever this person is…Ratchet and Clank have still been unable to find him. And for some reason, they think that _you_ of all people are their best bet in tracking him down.”

Nefarious snorted. “That’s the only sane thing I’ve heard all day!”

“Anyway,” the robot sat back down on the nearby bed, hands folded in his lap, “if I may be so bold, I believe it would be in your best interest to cooperate. Frankly, we have nowhere else to go, and our enemies have boundless more resources than we do at the moment.”

The scientist remained silent. As absurd as this whole situation sounded, his butler was not exactly one for playing jokes. There were only two possibilities. Either he had finally gone truly and totally mad…or everyone else had. But he had already been forced to work with his enemies twice before. So perhaps a third time wasn’t that insane at all.

“All right, Lawrence. I’ll play nice.”

Despite his quick agreement, or perhaps _because_ of it, Lawrence blinked at him. “Pardon me, sir? Did I hear you correctly?”

“What’s with the confusion, Lawrence?” Nefarious shrugged. “Like you said, I have nowhere else to go. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m safer here than anywhere else.” Surely those bumbling Ranger buffoons were out looking for him at this very moment, and he was in no position to elude them yet again. Frankly, a Galactic Ranger starship was likely the _last_ place they’d think to look.

“But now that I have access to a proper lab again,” he went on, his voice low, “there’s just one thing I have to do….”

* * *

Roughly a week had passed since his outburst, and Ratchet was spending another night lounging alone in the crew’s quarters. Though Qwark and Ophelia had already retired to bed, Ratchet remained up, his level of alertness draining from him, but his mind not yet ready for the rest his body desired.

Lost in his own mind, the Lombax had hardly spoken a word to anyone since the talk with Captain Qwark that felt as if it could have been months ago rather than days, even as his companions sent countless curious glances his way whenever they were in the same room together. As for Clank, well, he hadn’t so much as lain eyes on the robot since the prison escape. Ratchet knew it was a big ship. He knew that Clank was busy taking care of Nefarious. But he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that his friend was avoiding him.

The notion wasn’t really that farfetched. Ratchet was doing the same thing.

When the soft sound of footsteps met his ears, his mind cycled through the handful of possibilities even as his head jerked around to see for himself who this intruder to his peace could be. It was the last person he would have guessed, and the last person he wanted to see.

Ratchet scrambled to his feet, hand already reaching for his blaster. He had made a point of keeping one on his person at all times ever since their little escapade on Zordoom. Just because everyone else was so quick to trust the supervillain despite his unsavory track record, that didn’t mean _he_ had to be so naive.

“Hey, calm down, all right? I just came here to talk.” Dr. Nefarious held up both hands, one of them bandaged. A quick scan told the Lombax that there wasn’t a weapon anywhere to be seen on the supervillain’s thin frame.

This fact only provided him with the slightest level of comfort, his muscles remaining taut and at the ready. Great, so Nefarious hadn’t come to shoot him in cold blood. But Ratchet had the sneaking suspicion he wasn’t here for a friendly chat, either. He remained standing, the couch acting as a barrier between himself and the scientist. “What do you want?”

Now would be as good a time as any to do what he had been fantasizing about. No one else was here. He could say it was self-defense. Nefarious had always been violent and unpredictable. He could think of an endless list of excuses.

“I should be asking you the same thing.” Nefarious strolled farther into the room, his gait just a tad unsteady, as if walking wasn’t something he had done much of recently. “It would be nice if _someone_ would explain to me what I’m even doing here. I expected _Lawrence_ to break me out of prison, but not you twits.”

Ratchet slid back into his seat, one arm reclining over the backrest, blaster still gripped in one hand. “You’d have to ask Clank. This whole thing was his idea.”

With an exasperated sigh, Nefarious rubbed his massive forehead with his good hand. “Anyway, all I know right now is you need my help with…something. And seeing as you’re all clearly too dimwitted to get the job done without me, I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Ratchet snorted. Nefarious had a lot of nerve asking for favors after everything they had done for him. “No deal.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“That’s because this conversation is over.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” the scientist went on, his voice rising in volume. “You need my intelligence, and I need a lab. If you want my cooperation, then I’ve got one condition. You allow me to restore myself to my former robotic glory, and I’ll do whatever you ask. If it wasn’t for my stupid butler, I wouldn’t even be talking to you right now.”

Ratchet’s finger tightened on the trigger of his blaster. “Then I suggest you tell your butler that we’re not in the habit of bargaining with criminals.” If talking didn’t work, there was always another method for ending this conversation early.

“Clearly you misunderstand me, _Lombax_. I’m not _asking_ you. I’m telling you. So now that you know, you can’t accuse me of doing anything sketchy. Okay? Bye!”

Nefarious made an abrupt turn to leave, but Ratchet had already rounded the couch. “Where do you think you’re going? You’ll do as you’re told, and that’s it. End of discussion.”

The supervillain spun back to face him, hands on his waist, the two standing nearly nose to nose now that the gap between them had been eclipsed. Ratchet only hoped the intensity of his scowl was enough to mask the fact that he was substantially shorter than the scientist, a fact that only served to make his blood boil even hotter than ever.

“And what are you gonna do about it? Have me arrested again?” The scientist released a high-pitched cackle that set Ratchet’s teeth on edge. “You do that, and I’ll tell everyone what you did!”

“No. You don’t cooperate, and I’ll kill you.”

Nefarious chuckled once more. “Oh, look who’s a hotshot! Listen, Lombax, I’m done playing! You’ve had plenty of chances to kill me, and you never did it. And you wanna know why? Because you’re the _hero_. And heroes don’t have the guts.” With each syllable of that final statement, Nefarious jabbed Ratchet in the chest.

And that was the fatal mistake.

Ratchet’s hand shot out and grabbed the scientist’s broken wrist. Nefarious howled in equal parts surprise and pain, but Ratchet didn’t relent until he heard an audible crack. Even then, he continued to twist, pulling the scientist down to his level. From here, the agony in his opponent’s eyes was more than apparent.

“You’re going to cooperate with us. Step out of line _one_ more time, and I’ll kill you. Or worse. I mean that.” Ratchet’s voice had dropped dangerously low, each word enunciated with frightful clarity. He twisted even harder as Nefarious tried and failed to push him away. “Am I making myself clear?”

“Yeah, sure! Just let me go!” Nefarious’ voice was strained, his breathing hitching in his throat.

In response, Ratchet only squeezed harder, delicate bones yielding to the increased pressure with a sickeningly wet crackling sound. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, nearly drowning out the scientist’s renewed pleas for mercy. “You _sure_ about that? Because I’d hate for there to be a misunderstanding. You work for us now. There will be no questions, no bargaining. We’ve already done enough releasing your sorry hide from jail. Understand?”

“Loud and clear! Please…stop!”

Only then did Ratchet release him. Without the Lombax to provide support, Nefarious slumped to the floor, visibly shaking and his hand now hanging at an unnatural angle. For once, the supervillain seemed to be at a loss for words, the only sound his pained panting as he cradled his broken hand to his chest.

“If you think I’m the same, weak hero I used to be, think again. I’m done playing by the rules.”

Ratchet stepped around him and left the room, his heart burning afresh with the fire he had been secretly nurturing this past week in silence.

Maybe he wasn’t a hero anymore.


	27. On the Nature of Robots and Squishies

Nearly two weeks after their fateful outing to Zordoom, Clank had called an official meeting in the crew’s quarters to discuss their plans with the two newest members of the team. As they waited for the full group to assemble, Dr. Nefarious had settled into an armchair farthest from anyone else, Lawrence hovering almost protectively to his right. Ratchet was slouched on the far end of the sofa, arms crossed, while Clank was perched atop the opposite armrest, the remaining seats left open for their missing companions.

Even now, the normally inseparable duo had hardly spoken above the minimum. The most they had exchanged in recent times was when the little robot had informed him of this meeting to begin with, only to apologize once the news had been divulged for making any decisions on his own without first consulting him.

_“I am aware that I am only a machine, and I do not have that right.”_

It made Ratchet’s blood boil. Why did Clank keep behaving like this? And he couldn’t say anything because…well, in all honesty, he wasn’t feeling very supportive right now. It was better to say nothing than to make it worse, right?

And yet, in spite of the robot’s self-effacing manner, who was still the one calling the shots?

No one else was stepping up, though. He knew that _he_ wasn’t acting like much of a leader lately. _Someone_ had to do it.

Ratchet looked up to catch Nefarious sending a hate-filled glare in his direction, the scientist immediately averting his gaze once he noticed the Lombax had caught him staring. The simple bandages that had once adorned the supervillain’s broken wrist had since been replaced by a more substantial cast, an obvious reminder of what had taken place just several days prior.

He felt a twinge in his stomach as he recalled the cracking of bone and the way he could feel them shifting in the palm of his hand as his fingers tightened around them. He only did what he had to do. Otherwise, would Nefarious be so cooperative now?

Ophelia was the next to arrive, her shrill voice piercing the silence. “Sup, Neffy! How’s my favorite cranky scientist?”

Nefarious straightened to attention, eyes gone wide behind his red-tinted goggles. “What the heck is _she_ doing here?”

“Oh, you’ll never be free of me.”

She was just settling into the seat beside Ratchet when Captain Qwark entered the room, his booming voice making Ophelia’s sound like gentle birdsong. “Greetings, cadets! Your gallant defender of justice has arrived! Ah, Nefarious. Glad you could join us.”

Ophelia was one thing. But this…now this was, apparently, more than the scientist could handle. Nefarious jumped to his feet just as Lawrence was attempting to grab him by the arm and pull him back. “No one told me the big green pustule was going to be here! I never agreed to this!”

“Just sit down!”

That was all it took for Nefarious to return to his seat with all the suddenness of the universe pressing one big cosmic reset button. A myriad of curious glances landed on the Lombax responsible, his smirk over his little victory short-lived as he crossed his arms even more tightly about himself.

What he had done…if it kept the scientist in check, then it was worth it. People like him needed to be treated roughly if they were to accept who was in charge. The results were already plain to see.

Clank began once Qwark took the last spot on the sofa. “Now that our team is complete, I have called this meeting together so that we can discuss our plans moving forward. Dr. Nefarious, we have discovered the identity, and the intention, of the one who kidnapped you. It appears it is a man by the name of Petaer Iccultos, and his goal is to use a massive EMP to destroy all machines in the galaxy. In order to do this, he wishes to employ a device harnessing an immense…magnetic anomaly called the Four Horsemen to be used as a power source.”

Still sticking with Ophelia’s “magnetic anomaly” story, huh? Ratchet had to give the little robot credit for at least not divulging the Four Horsemen’s true identity to their enemies.

“The only problem is where this power source is located,” Clank continued. “I have done the necessary research, and it would appear to reside inside a black hole, the very same black hole we are stationed near now. And that is where you-”

Nefarious cut the robot off with a chuckle. “If that thing got swallowed up by a black hole, there’s no way we’re getting it back! Even _I_ can’t reassemble something whose atoms have been stripped away! This guy sounds like an utter idiot.”

Ophelia crossed her arms. “He’s not an idiot, just…determined.” Nefarious merely snorted at her interjection.

“If you would allow me to continue,” Clank said, “this device…I have the evidence to prove that it still exists within a pocket dimension-”

“Then I’d like you to show me that evidence-”

“Not another word!” At Ratchet’s warning, the scientist’s mouth clamped shut, whatever he had intended to say remaining, thankfully, unspoken.

“As I was saying,” Clank went on, “the device still exists within a pocket dimension that it itself is keeping open due to the sheer energy it emits, with the black hole serving as an _entrance_ to that dimension. Since we are unable to stop Petaer directly, the only way to thwart his plans is to destroy what he is after.” Clank paused, as if he expected to be interrupted once more. When no one so much as sneezed, he continued, “Dr. Nefarious, we need your help. You are the only one intelligent enough to get us inside that black hole. I understand that what I am asking you to do is quite dangerous. With that in mind, do you agree to help us?”

Ratchet inwardly rolled his eyes. _You didn’t care about putting_ us _in danger._

Nefarious glanced over at Ratchet, and when the Lombax made no move to stop him, he replied, “Do you twits have any idea how ridiculous this all sounds? It’s like you _want_ to get yourself killed! And I’m not sure I want to join you in your little suicide pact!”

“Look, can you do it or not?” Ophelia asked, leaning so far forward in her seat, she was in danger of falling off entirely. “I thought you were supposed to be one of the greatest minds the galaxy has ever seen. So which is it, Doctor, are you _scared_ …or are you just not smart enough?”

Nefarious scoffed at these words. “Are you kidding me? Listen, _little girl_ , compared to me, you’re nothing but a single-celled organism. What you’re asking me to do is child’s play. I was only pointing out how _insane_ it is. But if that’s what you want, then so be it. There’s just _one_ thing I want.” The doctor spared another glance in Ratchet’s direction, his voice dropping dangerously low as he continued, “When we eventually cross paths with the squishy who destroyed my space station and reverted me to my original form, his fate will be left entirely in my hands. Correct?”

Ratchet’s gaze met Ophelia’s widened eyes. She shook her head at him, her puff of hair flailing wildly about her. “We’ll see,” was all he said.

Seemingly accepting that this was the most agreement he was going to get, the supervillain continued, “Then if that’s settled, I’ve got work to do!” He rose to his feet in a grand manner and ran a finger through the air to point to each of them in one sweep. “Soon enough, you will all have the honor of witnessing the results of my great genius!”

The doctor made a dramatic turn on his heel and attempted to march away, but before he had gone more than a few steps, Captain Qwark had risen from the couch to join him, closing the distance between them entirely when he placed a beefy arm around the far slimmer man’s shoulders.

“I know you’re going to be busy for a while, Nefarious, old pal,” the superhero said as the scientist went stiff under such close contact, “but don’t work yourself too hard. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Get off me!” Nefarious flailed in the superhero’s grip until he had managed to extricate himself. With a menacing finger pointed at Qwark’s face, he went on, “If you lay so much as another _finger_ on me, I’ll snap it off and make you eat it!”

They all stared in stunned silence as the supervillain stomped out of the room, Lawrence trailing along a short distance behind. When Qwark finally turned back to them, his face was blank, as if that whole exchange couldn’t have possibly been predicted. “What’s gotten into him?”

Ratchet sighed. “I gotta go, too.” That was only half true. He wanted to leave, but he didn’t exactly have anywhere to go. The Lombax exited the room at a quick pace, cringing when he was pursued by the sound of footsteps as someone ran to catch up.

“Hey, Ratchet, wait up!”

He forced himself to turn around and lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave. He wasn’t sure why he felt so tired. But based on the way Ophelia practically bounded over to him, it seemed at least one of them had energy.

Ophelia placed both hands behind her back and swayed from side to side. “So, we’re getting close, huh?”

“Yeah.” He turned away and resumed walking. He was in no mood for small talk.

“And you also sort of gave Nefarious permission to beat up Petaer. He’s still my friend, you know. If anyone should rough him up, it’s me.”

Ratchet just kept walking.

Ophelia followed, increasing her pace until she could walk in stride beside him. “Quick question. What’s the deal with you and Nefarious?”

His footsteps faltered for only a moment. She got to the point quicker than he had expected. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I saw the two of you glaring at each other from across the room. Plus, I noticed his wrist looks _worse_ than it did before. That’s not how most injuries work, is it? Or is Clank just a bad doctor?”

He frowned over at her. “What’s your point?”

“Well, seeing as it wasn’t me, and no one _else_ seems to be particularly hostile towards our…ahem, guests,” she stopped in the middle of the hallway, one hand placed on her waist, while the other lifted upward to the heavens…or perhaps just the ceiling, “by the power of deduction, my dear Lombax, I have narrowed down the culprits, and the only one it could be…” her hand lowered to point squarely between her companion’s eyes, “is you.”

Forced to stop once again in his aimless trek towards nowhere in particular, it seemed he might as well indulge her in conversation, after all. “Yeah, I broke his wrist. To put him in his place.” For the umpteenth time he felt a cold chill run through his chest. He did what had to be done.

If Ophelia had figured it out so easily, Clank surely had, as well.

A grin spread across her features. It wasn’t exactly the response he had expected. It certainly wasn’t the way _Clank_ would have reacted.

Even Lawrence had given him a dirty look when they had first made eye contact today. It was hypocritical when _he_ of all people should understand.

Ophelia leaned her back against the wall behind her. “You remember what I said…all those months ago?”

“About what?”

She slid down until she was sitting on the floor. “About how kindness would get you killed one day.”

Seeing as she intended to talk for a while, he sat down beside her. “Yeah. I remember.”

Without a word of warning, she gave him a playful punch in the arm, causing him to yelp in surprise. “Well, I’m proud of you, Ratchet! You’ve toughened up!”

He shrugged, still rubbing the sore spot where she had struck him. “I don’t know about that. I’m just tired of being pushed around.”

“That’s what I mean. You shouldn’t put up with crap, or else people will walk all over you.” She nudged him once more with her elbow, this time with far more care. “Um…but you should probably try and take it easy on him from now on, okay? If we want this plan to succeed, we need Mr. Smartypants in one piece.”

“Yeah, I know.” For whatever reason, he found himself unable to look at her, settling instead for studying his boots.

Whether or not Ophelia noticed, it was unclear, as she continued on in the same chipper manner as before. “Hey, since we’re both confessing stuff…” she paused and leaned in closer, cupping one hand over her mouth to whisper, “y’know that disc containing Nefarious’ memories? Get this. I stole it from him.”

Ratchet’s ears perked up at this news. “What?”

“I just picked his pocket when he wasn’t looking. It was back…in Metropolis, I think. Or was it on the way there? Doesn’t really matter, I guess.”

Apparently she was missing the point. “And _why_ did you do that?”

Just now taking note of the incredulous look on the Lombax’s face, she gave him a sheepish grin. “I don’t know. I thought… _maybe_ we might need it one day. At the very least, it’s a great way to keep it out of Petaer’s hands, right? Having a record of Nefarious’ ideas and…inventions and stuff might be almost as good as having the guy himself.”

Ratchet could only guess as to the depravity such a disc would contain. “You should probably get rid of that thing. Do you still have it?”

Ophelia nodded. “Yeah, I have it.” Reaching amongst her layers of skirts, she produced the disc in question, holding it up between thumb and forefinger. “See, safe and sound.”

“You need to destroy it.”

“I know, you’re probably right.” Just like that, the disc disappeared from sight once more, like a magician performing a vanishing act. “I’ll do it later. I just thought I’d tell you. It doesn’t feel right keeping secrets from friends.”

Did it count as keeping a secret if your friend probably already knew what you did? Did you really have to say it outright?

What did he have to feel guilty about anyway? Clank wouldn’t understand. That was the only reason he had for not saying anything. It would only start more trouble.

“Speaking of friends, are you and Clank still fighting?”

It was as if she had read his mind. Ratchet pressed his lips tightly together. Now that was something he _really_ didn’t want to talk about. “We’re not fighting, _exactly_. We’re both just…”

“Yeah, okay. I avoid my friends, too, when we’re getting along.” She winked at him, a smirk plain upon her face.

Clearly she wasn’t buying it. And neither was he. He supposed he might as well just get to the point.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately. He…he’s lost all confidence in himself. He acts like…he’s just a machine, rather than a person.”

“Well, _isn’t_ he?”

Ratchet blinked at her. “Isn’t he _what_?”

“ _Isn’t_ he just a machine?” Before Ratchet could respond, Ophelia waved both hands in front of her, as if to protect herself from the expected answer. “Hey, don’t get me wrong. Clank’s a cute, little guy. But…he _is_ a machine. He’s not flesh and blood like us.”

Ratchet released a long breath through his nostrils. “I thought we’ve been over this before, Ophelia. It doesn’t matter what Clank is. He’s my friend.” Then why weren’t they speaking to each other anymore? “I know why you don’t like robots, but they’re not all like that.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just…not used to the idea of robots having…feelings and stuff. It’s just…weird.”

“ _You’re_ weird.”

She chuckled. “Yeah. Probably. So, Clank…when did he start acting different?”

“Ever since Virditia.” Actually, it was before that. Back on the perpetually rainy planet of Myrtle, but not really Myrtle. That’s when Clank had begun to question himself. Had begun to ask if he was...what was the word? Artificial. That was it, artificial.

He hadn’t been quite the same ever since.

“I’m sorry.” Ophelia whispered the words. “I hope you two make up soon.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“About Clank?”

“Yeah. And about my outburst the other week. I’m sorry about abandoning you and Qwark when we were cleaning up the ship. We’re a team,” he hung his head, “but I haven’t really been treating you guys like one. I’ve just been so…angry lately.” His hand formed a fist, but the gesture went nowhere.

Ophelia patted Ratchet on the back. “It’s okay. We all get angry sometimes. Do things we regret. You just gotta keep moving forward.”

“I know.” He rubbed his face in the palms of both hands. “I know.”

“Want me to leave you alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, see you later, Ratchet.”

Ratchet was uncertain, nor did he care, if his muttered farewell met her ears. But Ophelia left either way, the dull tapping of her footsteps on the hard metal floor fading away into the distance as he was reminded of the fact that there was one more person he needed to apologize to.

But once the apology was all said and done, would Clank ever be the same again?

* * *

Sure enough, Dr. Nefarious had found himself wrangled into working with his enemies once again. If this was the universe’s idea of a joke, it was clearly not very creative. The only difference this time was that they would have him believe he was working _for_ them instead of _with_ them. Let them think they had the upper hand. It would only cause them to let their guard down.

As soon as their little talk had ended, he had gotten straight to work in the Phoenix’s lab. People could call him a lot of things, but he was never lazy. He knew of plenty of villains who had to resort to bank robbery in order to fund their evil schemes. But not him. He had earned every bolt he had ever had, even if it meant selling illegal weapons to the competition. On the surface, it didn’t seem like the wisest of plans. But that was the beauty of it. In reality, it was a simple matter of providing them weapons with a very purposeful, and very exploitable, design flaw and blasting them to oblivion once they had the nerve to double cross him with his own technology.

Just as he wasn’t lazy, he wasn’t stupid, either.

The first thing he had done was send a probe into space to retrieve information regarding the black hole his reluctant “allies” were so darn enamored with. The probe wouldn’t last very long once it wandered too far beyond the event horizon, but it didn’t need to, either. He simply required data on the strength of the black hole’s gravitational pull, its mass, angular momentum, and so on and so forth. In the meantime, he had begun to work on the schematics for a device that could withstand the infinite gravity at the black hole’s center. Even if there really _was_ another dimension on the other side, the forces present at the black hole’s singularity would remain an impassable obstacle without the proper safeguards.

Nefarious slammed his good fist down on the desk with a growl. It would greatly impede his progress having to work with his current handicap. The scientist tried ever so gingerly to speed up his work by typing with both hands, but the experiment was short-lived when the pain in his broken wrist proved too much. The job he had been given was quite an imposing undertaking, even for one of his intelligence, and it simply wouldn’t do if he couldn’t dedicate his full attention to it.

Lawrence had re-bandaged his injury several days ago, had done his best to set the shattered bones back to their proper places despite his screaming and struggling, but the damage was so severe, he doubted it would ever heal correctly. His butler was, to be completely honest, a perfectly competent doctor, an observation that applied to his work with both robots _and_ organics, but there was only so much that could be done. His hand was a mess. A broken and twisted mess.

That Lombax had finally gone off the deep end. Sometimes even the good guys had to snap eventually. And _he_ would know. He had been in the same position all those many years ago when he could take his mistreatment no longer and had tried to atomize Metropolis as his first act of true villainy.

Of course, it was difficult to discern whether or not he had ever truly been a _good_ person back then or if his motivation to join the Galactic Rangers had been fueled by pride more than anything else. He wanted to prove to the galaxy what he was capable of. That his so-called deformity was an asset rather than a hindrance.

He wasn’t a freak. He wasn’t just some eccentric nutcase. How naïve he must have been back then to think intelligence would ever be valued as much as fame and popularity. He did not possess any of those things. Qwark did. And if that’s the sort of galaxy he lived in, maybe he didn’t want their approval.

Nefarious worked at a slowed pace for the next several hours, the past and present blending together in the dark mire of his thoughts that continued to fester in the back of his mind. He had labored in this very lab back when he was still a Ranger, back when he still wished to prove his value to people who didn’t care to listen. This lab was preferable to that broom closet they had the nerve to call an office back at HQ, but it brought back the very same memories. Bitter memories that served as the stepping stone for his spiral into villainy.

It had never really been about the size of his office. It had been about the disrespect. The constant, unrelenting refusal to admit that the Rangers would be _nothing_ without his contributions. It was thanks to maltreatment like that that his sanity had finally eroded away. The floodgate had finally burst, and by then, it was too late to stop it. He had seen it coming, but when the inevitable happened, he no longer cared.

An interruption to these dark ruminations came that evening, if such a concept really had any meaning in space, in the form of the hopeless do-gooder, Clank.

“Good evening, Dr. Nefarious.”

His visitor received no more than a grunt in response.

Even after that initial greeting had been uttered, the tiny robot remained in the doorway. Perhaps his reluctance was due to the fact that the nature of the scientist’s ongoing thoughts had since risen to the surface, twisting his already thin face into a visage even more grim than usual.

“I came to check on how your work is coming along.”

Nefarious’ focus remained on the computer screen. “Is that _really_ why you’re here, or did you just come here to spy on me?”

It was only now that Clank saw fit to actually enter the room. But even then, he kept his distance, continuing to ponder this question in silence a moment longer before he answered, “A very astute observation, Doctor. That is _partly_ why I am here. Did you send Lawrence out to spy on _us_?”

This was enough to draw Nefarious’ attention. Moral to a fault. That’s what Clank was. He released a dry chuckle that surprised even him. “Of course, I did. I don’t trust any of you.” He attempted to return to his work, only to turn back to his diminutive visitor a second later when another question arose, “What are we _really_ destroying inside that black hole?” Because something still wasn’t adding up. Was there _really_ no other way to power a galaxy-wide EMP?

That was a rhetorical question. Of course there was. Which could only mean this so-called “Four Horsemen” was not what they said it was.

But Clank merely shook his head. “I am sorry, but I cannot say.”

Figures. He attempted to shoo the robot away with a wave of one hand. “You can leave now. You gave me a job to do, and I’m doing it. What more do you want?” He gritted his teeth. No one had _dared_ tell him what to do in nearly twenty years.

Nefarious tried to return to his futile, one-handed work, but the robot remained, studying him with his large green optics. When he made the mistake of sparing his visitor another glance, Clank’s gaze was affixed upon his injured hand. With the bandages and the cast that Lawrence had applied, he swore his hand was three times its usual size. It was a pitiful sight indeed.

“How have you been feeling lately, Doctor? While I have studied up on the general anatomy of most organic lifeforms, I am afraid I am still not the most skilled doctor. Broken bones are a bit beyond my level of expertise.”

“It’s fine.”

“Your injury appears worse than when I first saw it. Did something happen?”

Nefarious huffed and crossed his arms, if only to break Clank’s focus on his twisted hand. “Don’t worry about it! Now leave me alone! I’m busy!”

The scientist turned back to the computer with renewed vigor. When he caught no sign of an additional response, he glanced over again with a sour sort of frown on his gaunt face, only to discover that the robot was nowhere to be found. Releasing a sigh of relief, he was startled to attention when the intruder spoke up from his other side. Clank was further in the room than he had ever been. Nefarious was losing ground at an alarming pace.

“Dr. Nefarious, since we are a team, I would like to assist you with your work.”

Nefarious stood, if only to increase the already greatly differing heights between them. If there was anywhere left in the universe where the scientist could have some semblance of authority, it should at least be in his own lab. “I don’t need your help.”

“I believe that you do. It will be very difficult to get any work done with only one hand.”

“I’ll manage.” The scientist’s eyes narrowed in a glare, but the robot only stared back, unfazed.

“Doctor,” Clank began, the most curious grin working its way across his round features, “as a man of science, surely you must realize that three hands are better than one.”

Dr. Nefarious growled, one hand rubbing his temple in a futile effort to push back his growing headache. “I thought you were here to spy on me.”

It wasn’t a good sign when Clank pulled over a chair and climbed into it. “Well, as the organics say, I am killing two birds with one stone. It is a rather morbid saying, but I am sure that you understand my point.”

Loud and clear. And the point was this. He wasn’t leaving, and there was nothing Nefarious could do about it.

* * *

As little as he’d care to admit, Clank had proven to be an excellent assistant, as obedient as he was hopelessly saccharine. With someone else to log the readings that had been sent back from the probe and complete the schematics with the scientist’s new calculations, the planning stages were completed in half the time. They would have gotten farther if Nefarious hadn’t been forced to retire to bed for the night, one aspect of being a squishy he had always resented whenever he had a particularly large workload or a task that held supreme interest to him.

Or, in this case, a job that he just wanted to be over with as soon as possible.

Even with the additional help, it had taken several days to assemble the prototype for the anti-gravity generator, the robot serving as an extra pair of hands to supplement Nefarious’ own clumsy efforts. Normally, his mechanical prowess was something to be admired (at least, it would be, had he ever an audience with the brainpower to appreciate it), but in his current state, any casual observer would think _Clank_ was the one in charge and Nefarious was simply his addle-brained assistant.

The completed machine had since been moved to a controlled gravity chamber for testing. The idea was to create a bubble that could negate any outside gravity, allowing any object inside to behave as if no gravity was present at all. In theory, a ship could travel beyond a black hole’s event horizon, and out again, like it was nothing. No need for advanced boosters or to concern oneself with the immense forces outside. At least, that was the idea. Because when they said that infinite forces were present within a black hole, they meant _infinite_.

The floor itself thrummed with life as the gravity chamber hummed, the device inside suspended in the anti-gravity bubble it had created around itself despite the forces fighting to disrupt it. For the purposes of testing, the machine required direct connection with the Phoenix’s main power. He’d have to find a powerful battery if it was to function properly on a much smaller vessel. But for now, his creation was holding up splendidly.

But this was just the gravity they would be facing once they had crossed the event horizon. Sure, any ship adorned with this little beauty could fly right back out again like it was nothing. But even a ship equipped with strong enough boosters could do that. The gravity would only increase exponentially after that point. The only thing at risk right now was the device itself. If it failed to do its job when they needed it most, however, people would die. Most of them would be no great loss.

He himself was the obvious exception.

There was a brief tapping as Clank recorded the newest results into his tablet. “Doctor, do you still wish to give up your mortality in order to become a machine?”

Nefarious didn’t even bother looking over from where he sat in one of the lab’s several wheeled office chairs, but continued to watch the device through the thick-paned glass of the testing chamber. Such a pointless question hardly deserved an answer, but he gave one anyway. “Of course, I do. But vengeance comes first.” If only you knew. “I’m turning it up again.”

“I have often wondered what it is like to be an organic.”

“What was that?” Nefarious reached forward, turning the dial to the gravity chamber up another degree as the humming increased in volume. Now let’s see how well it did with the equivalent of being just outside the black hole’s center.

With this increase in force, the anti-gravity bubble began to shrink in size. Nefarious hummed under his breath. Well, that certainly wasn’t ideal. Right now, the radius was four meters. If it got any smaller, their vessel would no longer fit. If one centimeter so much as poked its way outside the protective confines of the bubble, it was all over.

The scientist leaned forward to get a better look inside the chamber as he reached for the dial once more, turning it higher still, one increment at a time. The bubble shrank further just as the device sparked, a large plume of smoke bursting from its left side. Nefarious cursed, turning the dial all the way down just as the machine failed entirely, its protective barrier blinking out of existence as it crashed to the ground. Even now, the quickly dwindling forces created by the gravity chamber were still enough to crush the already damaged machine, as if some invisible and angry entity had decided to take a hammer to it. If he had been a second slower, there would hardly be a machine left to retrieve at all.

He flicked the power switch. With a long groan, the gravity chamber powered down completely.

“Perhaps the power coupling was not able to withstand the immense power intake?” Clank said.

“We’ll only know for sure once we’ve taken a closer look at it.” Nefarious rose from his seat and marched over to the chamber door, entering a password in quick taps so that the door could open. A few additional inputs and the ceiling in the middle of the lab slid open to reveal a mechanical arm that moved along a rail overhead to retrieve the fallen machine just as Nefarious was unhooking its power cables with several quick yanks.

When he exited the chamber, Clank was staring at him, seemingly rooted to the spot. “Don’t just stand there. We need to figure out what went wrong with this stupid thing!” He eyed the twisted hunk of metal. It certainly couldn’t be salvaged, but they could at least dismantle what was left of it and find the source of the failure.

Behind him, the mechanical arm had lifted the damaged machine and was slowly carrying it back into the main lab. The device may have been small, hardly bigger than Clank, in fact, but it was deceptively heavy.

“Dr. Nefarious, I was curious if I could ask your opinion concerning a matter that has been bothering me for quite some time. It is in regards to the nature of organics and robots.”

Nefarious spared the robot no more than a sidelong glance as he activated the overhead lights over the worktable. The arm was taking its sweet time bringing the machine over. “Yeah, what is it, then?”

“You are perhaps the only person who has spent prolonged time as both an organic and a robot. As such, you have a very unique perspective of what existence is like for both.”

This was going to take a while, wasn’t it? Just like that blasted robotic arm. “What’s your point?”

Clank fidgeted with the tablet gripped in both hands. “We recently visited a planet called Virditia where the population of robots was wiped out by the native species when they fought back against the people who had built them for labor. When organic lifeforms are killed on a massive scale, it is called genocide, but the same does not appear to be the case for robots. Ending the life-force of a robot seems to bear as much consequence as disposing of a broken piece of machinery. I...have begun to fear that the life of a robot is not worth the same as an organic because...we are artificial. Sometimes I worry that I am nothing more than a lifeless machine, no different from a computer or a kitchen appliance. I know your views on robots and organics, Doctor, but I hope you can give me an honest, unbiased answer. Are robots truly...alive in the same sense as organics?”

The robotic arm had finally seen fit to lower the machine back onto the worktable. But his interest in the conversation had already been piqued. “Did it really take you this long to notice how robots are treated?” Nefarious shook his head with an aggravated sniff. “Of course robots are just as alive as squishies. What is life, really, but self-awareness?”

“But organics can do a lot of things robots cannot. For example, I will never be able to...to taste food or experience what they call dreaming.”

The doctor waved a dismissive hand. “Believe me, you’re not missing anything. Organics are weak and short-lived, just a fleshy mass of instincts whose only purpose in life is to reproduce and die. Robots are eternal. They don’t eat. They don’t sleep or get sick. Robots can do anything and everything important that organics can and more. And what’s the difference, you ask? The thoughts and actions of both are governed by electrical impulses. The only differences are the materials and the limitations.”

When Dr. Nefarious first became a robot, it was not voluntary. No, it was not something he had wanted. It was a painful and messy transformation that had lasted hours and had left him reeling for weeks to come. But once he had accepted the change, he had come to realize it was the single most important moment in his life.

And people called robots _lifeless_ machines? He had never before felt so alive. An existence without pain or weakness. Without any need to sleep, with a mind that could work at hundreds of times the speed as before. There was nothing he couldn’t do.

And that had all been taken away from him. Not a day, not an _hour_ went by that he didn’t fantasize about what he would do to the person responsible. He would have his old form back, yes. But that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be _consequences_.

Clank had been tapping his fingers idly against the side of the tablet as he thought this over. When he looked up again, he asked, “What about the soul? Is it possible for a robot to possess a soul?”

Nefarious shrugged, reaching for a screwdriver. There was a distinct burning smell and a small plume of smoke slithering out from somewhere inside the crumpled device. Perhaps if he could remove the chassis, he could locate the source. “How should I know? I’ve never believed in such nonsense to begin with. Think about it, Clank. If a tree or an amoeba can be considered life, why can’t a robot? Robots are far more alive than either of those things. A robot’s thought processes are at least equal to that of any organic’s. Higher, in most instances. You can think. You can reason. What can’t you do that a squishy can?”

“Well…”

The scientist halted him with a raised hand. “Forget about sleeping and eating and catching the common cold. All of those things are meaningless.” Nefarious tapped his temple. “The mind’s all that matters in the end. When I was a robot, I felt just as alive as I do now. Even though my body had changed, any cognitive aspects had not. I only didn’t have useless things like sleep and hunger to get in my way. Do you understand now?”

The little robot’s optics closed in a thoughtful blink. “I believe I do. Thank you, Doctor. Your advice has been most reassuring.”

Nefarious worked to unscrew the final corner of the device’s rear compartment. Even with the sorry shape it was in, it was still being particularly stubborn. The last bolt came free, and yet it still refused to budge. “Is it settled then?”

Clank did not answer at first, and when the doctor turned to eye him, the robot was staring solemnly at the floor. “There is...one other matter I wanted to get out in the open. It is about...my father.”

Nefarious frowned. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.

The supervillain said nothing as the robot continued, “You knew him as Orvus, and I am certain you recall...killing him several years ago. Because of your actions, I never got to know the being who created me. I never got to speak to him except in my own mind in the Mnemonic Station in the Great Clock. I will never forget his words, though it is not the same as speaking to someone when they are still alive.” When Clank looked up again, it was with the intense focus of a laser. “With that said, I wanted to tell you that I...forgive you.”

“Forgive me?” The doctor nearly choked on the words. “Why would you want to tell me that? I never said I was sorry.”

“I know. To be honest, I mainly wanted to tell you this for my own peace of mind, and, forgive me for being blunt…in case you had any conscience left in you to appreciate it. What you did…it used to make me very angry. But if we are going to be working together, I thought it would be best to let go of any resentment I might still feel towards you.”

Nefarious remained at a loss for words in light of this sudden confession, but there was no need when Clank spoke up once more. “Dr. Nefarious, do you think you could ever be good again?”

Nefarious laughed, a bitter sort of laugh that held no humor. How naïve could someone be? “I’ve been evil for far too long. I’m a villain now, and that’s all I’ll ever be. Why should you care anyway?”

“I hope, for your sake, that you are mistaken.”

Nefarious gripped the loosened corner of the chassis with his good hand, leaning his other arm over top of it to hold it steady as he tore it free with a determined yank, several bolts rolling free and landing unceremoniously on the ground. This had gone on long enough. “Are you going to help me or not? We’ve already wasted enough time already!”

Who said he had _ever_ been a good person?

* * *

Just over a week had passed since the meeting, and they were already hard at work making the final preparations. To think, in the morning, they’d be waking up to fly into a black hole, through which resided a pocket dimension containing the long-lost civilization that had been dragged inside a millennium ago. Just the thought alone set Ratchet’s fur standing on end, even when the alternative was…well, they were flying into a black hole. Make a wild guess as to what the alternative was.

According to their newly-appointed overlord Lawrence, Dr. Nefarious (along with Clank, which explained why he hadn’t seen the little robot in all this time) was building some sort of gravity bubble to withstand the great forces at work inside a black hole. What his mind had been able to wrap around was that they’d be able to fly in, and out, of the black hole as if its gravity was nonexistent. No event horizon to escape from, no atom-stripping forces, and _technically_ , if it turned out there really _was_ no pocket dimension, they could simply fly right out again, completely unharmed.

So why was Ratchet doubtful? Perhaps it sounded too good to be true. Perhaps the opposite was the case. It sounded too terrible for this all not to be a dream.

Captain Qwark arrived back in the hangar with a load of food rations slung across his broad shoulders, which he dropped unceremoniously before Lawrence. As their temporary leader, the portly butler had monitored their every move for the past several hours with a tablet held in one hand, which he examined nearly as closely as he did those under his command.

“Here’s the vittles you ordered, Lawrence!”

“I specifically recall asking for a _weeks’_ supply. This is only enough for five days. Honestly, did you even _learn_ to count?”

Qwark attempted to recount the quantity on his fingers when Lawrence waved him away. “Just take them to the ship and bring the rest with you next time.”

Ratchet watched the superhero do as he was told, grumbling the whole way even up until he had trudged right back out of the room. The Lombax was jolted to attention when Lawrence took notice of his own inefficiency.

“I’m sorry. Did I say you could take a break?”

At this reprimand, Ratchet returned to his assigned task with at least as many complaints muttered under his breath as the superhero had displayed. From where he was perched atop the transport’s roof, he was busy installing the Eternal Fission Cell 9000 that would be used to power Nefarious’ so-called “gravity bubble”. The ship they were using needed to be large and sturdy in order to carry not only themselves and the device, but plenty of food, weapons, and let’s not forget the explosive charges required to wipe the Four Horsemen clean out of existence. Being such a bulky transport, it lacked the booster power necessary to escape a black hole’s event horizon. The gravity bubble was supposed to take care of that. But Ratchet couldn’t deny the fact that he had his suspicions.

If Nefarious wanted an opportunity to be rid of them once and for all, this would be it.

Below him, inside the ship’s rear storage compartment, Ophelia was singing a merry tune as she organized the supplies.

“You’re certainly cheerful about this whole thing, Ophelia” Ratchet called as he tightened one of the bolts holding the cradle where the power supply would be placed.

“Well, _duh_ ,” came her echoing reply, “this is going to be our greatest adventure yet! Think about it, Ratchet, we’re going to be the first people to enter a black hole! Willingly, at least.” There was a pause, and when she spoke again, her voice had turned more somber. “We’re going to save my people. I can’t wait to meet them. Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Yeah, sure.” There would be no survivors. That’s what Clank had already told him. _“The chances of their survival are non-existent.”_ Those were his exact words. Ratchet sighed. “I sure wish your friend would just contact you already.”

“Huh?”

“You _did_ send a radio message out for him, right?”

“Oh, yeah! I guess he’s ignoring me. Figures. But hey, I’d love to see the expression on his face when we blow up his silly machine. You think he’ll surrender? I hope so. But Ratchet?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not going to destroy the Four Horse-Peoples right away, are we? We do that and the whole dimension will collapse. We need to get my people out of there first. Shouldn’t we bring more transports or something?”

“Well, we don’t know how many people are going to be in there. Maybe we should just find out first. With the gravity bubble, we should be able to come and go as we please.”

“Oh, that makes sense, I guess.”

When Ratchet glanced over his shoulder, Lawrence was eyeing him with barely hidden confusion. The Lombax merely shrugged in response. He wished he could tell her the truth. He really did. But he knew what it was like, the overwhelming excitement of a plan nearly reaching fruition, only to have success cruelly snatched away. He had gotten so close to reuniting with the Lombaxes, or so he had thought. But here he was, still alone. As he had always been.

Besides, she was so certain they were in there. He could argue all he wanted that this just wasn’t the case. But in order to accept the truth, she needed to see for herself.

“Ophelia, just don’t get your hopes up, okay? We don’t know for certain what we’ll find in there.”

“Of course I have high hopes! We’re about to do the impossible!”

He wished Clank was here at a time like this. He was always more tactful. More compassionate. And yet, lately, he thought of himself as no better than a mere machine. Clank was better than him at a lot of things. If anyone didn’t quite measure up, it would be Ratchet.

Ratchet lowered his head and returned his full focus to his work. Before they left in the morning, there was one last thing he needed to do.

* * *

Three redesigns later and the last round of testing had finally completed without a hitch. The Gravity Negation Barrier had withstood forces beyond what the probe had even indicated would be necessary and was officially ready for duty. They were just finishing up for the day when Lawrence entered the room.

“Preparations are complete, sir. The necessary provisions have all been accounted for, and the Eternal Fission Cell you asked for has been successfully installed.”

“Excellent news, Lawrence!” Dr. Nefarious waved a lazy hand in Clank’s direction. “Get lost, okay? I’ll finish up here.”

The tiny robot was standing on a chair in order to reach the keyboard as he logged the day’s test results into the lab database. Typing in one final digit, he nodded. “Of course, Doctor. It has been a pleasure working with you.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Once Clank had left the room, Nefarious continued, “Are those squishies still cooperating? For all we know, they might think my usefulness has finally ran its course.”

“The only one doing any complaining was Ratchet, and that was mostly because I ‘had the nerve’ to tell him what to do.”

Nefarious settled into the nearest seat with a sigh. “I just don’t trust that Lombax after what he pulled the other day. Or their obnoxious female companion. I know you get along with her just fine, Lawrence, but you can’t for a second tell me there’s not something weird about her.”

“Sir, if I may be so bold, this whole mission…I hope you understand that it sounds utterly absurd.”

“I would have gone with the term ‘suicide mission’, myself.”

Lawrence refrained from answering right away, as if he had expected anything but agreement. “So you would still go through with it, sir?”

Nefarious pushed one hand against the desk beside him, setting his chair into a slow spin on its wheels. “I have done the necessary testing. My research is sound.”

Clearly finding this answer to be unsatisfactory, Lawrence tried once more. “Sir, I am uncertain you understand how dangerous this is. You have already done your part. Why not just allow the others to do the dirty work for you? You don’t have to be the one-”

The doctor put his foot down, the chair’s movements halted. “Are you _worried_ about me, Lawrence?” The scientist’s usual energy was gone, his words low, almost tired. “I know _exactly_ what I’m getting into. Better than _you_. The person who did this to me must pay, and it must be by _my_ hands.”

“But is revenge really worth risking your life for?”

Nefarious turned away to study his newest creation from across the room. “I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll likely be some time before this story is updated again, but I'm all caught up for now. I know where the story goes from here, so it's all just a matter of writing it once I have the time....


End file.
